


The Chambers of The Heart

by emeraldsword



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-12
Updated: 2012-08-12
Packaged: 2017-11-12 00:22:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/484559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldsword/pseuds/emeraldsword
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lewis and Hathaway are finally taking the next step in their relationship when Lewis's son Mark returns unexpectedly from Australia and throws several spanners into the works. Before, it has always been Lewis's work spilling over into his personal life but this time it's the other way around. Will Mark's presence in Lewis's life derail his romance with Hathaway, and will the turmoil in his personal life interfere with his ability to investigate a murdered student?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sunday

**Author's Note:**

> What can I say? Thank you SO MUCH to my amazing betas, Lycoris, Versipellis and Gumbie_cat. You have been brilliant; this story would be nothing without you. You dealt with my random text messages, a barrage of stupid questions and managed to keep me both cheerful and interested. Thank you so much.
> 
> Thanks to my amazing artists elrhiarhodan and Enednoviel who have been both supportive and patient, and thank you to our mod, for being so generous with the extension! Not only did I have exams, a house move and a bereavement, this ballooned from 15000 to 31000 words, and I am very grateful for having the extra time and support to get this right.
> 
> BEFORE READING - [please go to dropbox](https://dl.dropbox.com/u/17377916/Lewis%20Fic%20-%20Case%20Story%20-%20PLAYLIST.zip) to download elrhiarhodan's amazing sound track and [then to enednoviel's page](http://www.fandomworld.net/artwork/liz_casestory01a.jpg) to see her glorious art.

  


**Disclaimer** I do not own the characters or the premise and I'm making no money. As the show uses a fictional Oxford, so do I. The only nod to reality is the existance of a college of St Anthony's, the patron saint of lost things. So annoying when you make something up to find out that it already exists! I kept the name, I couldn't resist, but invented everything else to do with it - any resemblence to persons living or dead is entirely coincidental!  
 **  
A note on the formatting** ~ = scene change, ** = POV switch.

The Chambers Of The Heart

_Let us ask the poets where these feelings of love start._

_There's nothing so mysterious as the chambers of the heart._

 

Sunday

Lewis was putting the last of the breakfast dishes into the drying rack as the house phone rang. He pulled out the plug to let the water drain away and smiled to himself as he went to answer it.

"Lewis," he said, just in case.

"Morning Dad!" Lynn answered, and Lewis's smile broadened..

"Hello pet, how are you?"

"Still pregnant," she said with a sigh. "Honestly, this goes on far longer than it has any right to."

"Aye well, that's always the way," Lewis said. "Far as I recall, all pregnant women want to get it over with by the end."

"Thank God I've finished work," she said. "I've been doing loads this week, getting the house ready for the baby." Lewis settled into his favourite chair and listened to his daughter talk,a great feeling of happiness flowing through him.

"I've told yeh, I could have done that," he said after she'd finished regaling him with a tale of how she and Simon had moved the wardrobe. "I can take leave any time, you know."

"I know, but I want you here after baby's born," she said. "It'd be awful if you'd taken all your leave before the little horror arrived."

"Aye," Lewis agreed. "But no more furniture removals, OK?" he said sternly. "Either it waits until I get there or your Simon gets friends in to help."

"Oh Dad, you do fuss!" she said affectionately.

"That's what dads are for," Lewis pointed out.

"So what have you been up to?" Lynn asked. "How's life in Oxford?"

"Same old," Lewis said. "James dragged me to some talk on pottery on Friday. Said it was folk art or some such. I couldn't believe it – load of naked men, great big ceramic thingies, I didn't know where to look!"

Lynn laughed.

"Poor Dad. Did they at least give you free wine?" she asked.

"It wasn't that kind of talk," Lewis said darkly. "Honestly, I don't know how he finds these things, I really don't. I made him buy me a pint afterwards to make up for it. Two pints."

"What did you go to last week, some Roman thing?"

"Yes, and that was just as bad!" Lewis said. "I swear he does it on purpose to torment me."

"It's nice that he wants you to share his hobbies," Lynn said reprovingly. "It's good for you to get out of the house a bit for something that's not work."

"I get out plenty," Lewis said grumpily. "You heard anything from your brother?" he asked to change the subject.

"Not since the last time you asked," she said and Lewis made a grudging noise. "I'll send him an email after the baby's born. Maybe he'll even come home to see it!"

"Can't imagine your brother being that interested in babies," Lewis said. "Be nice to see him though," he added when Lynn didn't reply. "I might drop him an email myself," he said, and Lynn laughed.

"Will you have to get James to show you how?" she asked, and Lewis snorted.

"I'll have you know that I'm completely capable of sending an email without help," he said.

"You've improved recently, I'll admit," she said. "I don't think you've sent me a blank one for ages."

"You do something once, they never let you forget it. You're as bad as he is!" Lewis said. "I dunno, the way you two go on you'd think I was completely helpless. I'm not in my dotage yet, you know, even if I am about to become a granddad."

"You're older than Grandpa was when you had me, aren't you?" Lynn said.

"If you think you're going to trick me into talking about how times have changed so you can take the mick again, you've got another think coming!" Lewis said. "I…"

He was interrupted at that point by the shrilling of his work mobile.

"Sorry pet, I've got to take this, it's work," he said. "Hang on." He balanced the receiver carefully on the arm of the chair and then made a long arm for his mobile.

"Lewis," he said briskly. He listened closely as the person on the other end explained the situation.

"I'll be right there," he said and hung up.

"I'm sorry love, I've got to go," he said, picking up the landline again. "There's been a murder."

 

**

 

Hathaway was taking advantage of his Sunday morning lie-in to have a wank. He lay on his back, knees bent and legs slightly apart, thinking of being ridden by a beautiful woman. He remembered the time Fiona had done that, how her hips had felt under his hands, the way her breasts moved, the way she bit her lip in concentration in a gesture that had given him a hard-on the next time he'd seen her do that in the office. Despite his efforts to think of her, other thoughts kept sliding into his mind. Those curvy hips kept trying to straighten themselves out, her breasts flatten and her body elongate. No matter how often he tried to focus on her, on that bitten lip and smooth skin, in the end when Hathaway came the face in his head was that of Detective Inspector Robbie Lewis.

 

~

 

Afterwards he went for a run. Thoughts like 'idiot' and 'doesn't help anything' kept entering his head but he pushed them away firmly for the feeling of concrete under his trainers. He'd just reached the park and stopped for a cigarette under the trees when his phone rang.

 

**

 

The boy's body was lying in the mud at the edge of the river, wet hair plastered over his face. He'd clearly been in the water for several days and it was equally clear to Lewis that he had been dead when he went in there.

"Stabbed," Laura said briskly, straightening up and removing her gloves. "More than once. I can't tell you any more until I get him back to the lab."

"Same person?" Lewis asked, and she gave him a look.

"He's been in the water several days," she said. "Probably not more than a week, but with the hot weather we've had recently, who can say?"

"Thanks," Lewis said. He caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see Hathaway gingerly picking his way down the bank. His hair looked damp around the ears and he was slightly flushed.

"I was out on a run," he said, when he finally reached them. "How old was he?" he asked, taking in the situation at a glance.

"Too young," Laura said, and began to make her way back up the bank Hathaway had just come down. Lewis and Hathaway exchanged a glance and followed her, leaving the scene to forensics.

 

~

 

"Running's bad for the joints," Lewis said as they headed back to the cars.

"I have to have some way of maintaining my youthful figure," Hathaway said, and Lewis snorted.

Lewis drove straight to the station, and by the time the computer had loaded up the woman from forensics had arrived with the preliminary details.

"Wallet in the back pocket containing ID," she said. "Probably not his, but it's a place to start."

"Yes, thank you," Lewis said, more sharply than was really warranted.

Hathaway waited until she'd left before speaking.

"ID after a knife attack?" he said. Lewis showed him the plastic wallet with what looked, at least at first glance, like a valid driving licence inside. It proclaimed their victim as a Mr Richard Cadwallader, and put him at 23 years of age. According to his NUS card, he was a student at the college of St Anthony.

"Like she said, it's a place to start," he said. "I dunno, the press, forensics, everyone's a damn detective."

Hathaway just grunted, and Lewis, who had been expecting some sort of smart remark, gave him a curious look. Hathaway was typing the college into Google and had found the telephone number for the porter's lodge. Lewis retreated behind his own desk and began going through the rest of the items found on the body but he kept one ear on the conversation.

"They do indeed have a student of that name on the books," Hathaway said, hanging up the phone. "As to whether or not he is physically present, apparently that is a different question. It's a postgraduate college so they don't keep very close tabs, and they have a lot of study time. The porter did say that Richard is usually out on the town, but he was seen yesterday or the day before with a new girlfriend so no one was expecting him back. "

"Did you get a name for her?"

"No," Hathaway said.

"We'd better head over there now then," Lewis said. "Sunday, why did it have to be Sunday? The ones that aren't away for the weekend will still be drunk at this time of day."

 

~

 

They arrived at the college about half past eleven. Despite having lived in Oxford for nearly seven years now, Hathaway had never been here before and he looked around curiously as he followed Lewis to the window of the porter's lodge.

"Detective Inspector Lewis," Lewis said, showing his badge to the man behind the desk. "I believe you spoke to my sergeant earlier? It's about Richard Cadwallader."

"He hasn't been by since you phoned. Is he in trouble?" The porter looked simultaneously concerned and curious. "He's a bit of a charmer, bit flash, but not a bad lad, not really."

"We just wanted to ask him a few questions," Lewis said smoothly.

"Is he a hard worker?" Hathaway interjected, and the porter laughed.

"Not at all," he said. "He probably went to a couple of lectures in the first week, but I wouldn't like to say for certain. He barely even lives here."

"When did you last see him?" Hathaway asked.

"Tuesday…no, Wednesday night. Thursday's my night off, see. I saw him with a lad, bit older maybe, scruffy-looking. They went up to his room."

"Is he likely to be in his room now?" Lewis asked, then snorted. "Silly question."

"No, Sunday morning? Don't think he's spent a Saturday night here this term, possibly ever. Well, not alone anyway."

"Don't the college have anything to say about this?" Hathaway asked.

"Oh yes, it'll catch up with him eventually but like I said, he's a charmer."

"Does he have any friends in the college we could talk to?" asked Lewis, frowning slightly.

The porter also frowned.

"What is this about?" he asked. "I can't just let you go wandering about, police or not."

"A body's been found in the river, carrying Richard's wallet." Lewis said.

The porter gasped.

"We haven't confirmed that it's him," Lewis said quickly, "but we do need to find out where he is and where he's been."

"Yes, of course. He's not here very often but everyone knows him - you can talk to the people on his corridor if you like," the porter said. "Up the stairs to your left – his room is number 22."

"Thanks," said Lewis and Hathaway followed him mutely up the narrow staircase, trying not to think about how easy it would be to take one step too close at the top and press himself right up against Lewis's back.

Lewis didn't even pause at the top of the stairs, just knocked on the first door he saw that wasn't number 22. Hathaway stood helpfully behind him as it was opened by a blonde girl who was clearly still in her pyjamas. She squinted at them curiously.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"I'm Detective Inspector Lewis and this is Detective Sergeant Hathaway. Can we have a word?"

"About what?" the girl asked.

"A chap named Richard Cadwallader who lives on this corridor," Lewis said.

"Oh, him," the girl said. "I suppose you'd better come in. Excuse the mess." She stepped away from the door and Lewis and Hathaway followed her through.

Mess was an understatement. Paper, books and clothes were strewn absolutely everywhere. A half-drunk mug of tea on the bedside table combined with the lurid paperback open on the foot of the bed testified to where this student had been spending her Sunday morning. The desk chair, the only chair in the room, was covered in clothing so Hathaway drifted over to the window, insofar as it was possible for a man of six feet two to drift across a floor knee deep in dirty knickers.

The student was perched awkwardly on the edge of her bed, clearly having intended to get straight back into it and then having thought better of it.

"What's your name, Miss?" Lewis asked.

"Hannah Greenfield," she said. "I don't know Richard very well, I'm afraid. His room's down the hall and I've seen him around of course, everyone has, but I wouldn't really call him a friend."

"When was the last time you saw him?" Hathaway asked, turning his attention from the window back to the room.

"I don't know. Friday maybe? I know Sam was complaining about him on Saturday, anyway. I went out on Friday night, pretty much straight from lectures so I was in a bit of a rush."

"Did you see him here or out in town?" Hathaway said.

"I wouldn't have seen him in town," Hannah said. "I don't think I've ever seen him in any of the student hangouts. I might have seen him here in the corridor, I don't know. As I said, Sam was bitching about him on Saturday morning so I know he was here but I couldn't swear that I saw him."

"Why was Sam talking about him?" Lewis asked.

"Oh, I think he just came back here to have sex. The girl he was with was very loud and Sam couldn't concentrate on her essay."

"Which room is Sam in?"

"21. She's not here now though – went back to Liverpool for some family thing, she won't be back til late tonight. Hence the essay on a Friday night," Hannah said with a little glitter of amusement in her eyes.

"You said you wouldn't call Richard a friend. Can you think of anyone who would?" Hathaway said.

Hannah frowned.

"You know, I'm not sure I can," she said. "He wasn't here very often, I don't think. He didn't play sports or anything and we self-cater so can keep our own hours. I don't remember seeing him in the kitchen much."

She paused, and bit her lip.

"That's kind of sad, isn't it?" she said. "But he's not lonely – whenever he does come back here it's with someone new. Keeps us in gossip, at least!" she laughed. "Sam'll tell you what he's like – can't believe she has to share a wall with him, so glad my next door neighbour is practically a monk."

"Is anyone else who lives on this corridor here at the moment, or are they all away for the weekend?" Lewis asked.

"Um, I think John is in room 18," she said.

"Thanks for your time," Hathaway said, as he negotiated his way back to the door. Hannah swung her legs back into bed and pulled the covers up around her.

"Don't mention it," she said, reaching for her paperback.

Lewis let the door close behind him and the two exchanged glances before walking towards number 18.

 

**

 

The interviews with the handful of students both around and awake at nearly noon on a Sunday went better than Lewis had expected, but far less was gained from them than they'd hoped.

"Fat lot of use this is," he said as Hathaway drove them back to the station. "No one who actually saw him on Friday, no one who knows who his friends are or even where he goes when he's not in college. Not even any photographs to compare to our victim!"

"Well, we know he was still alive on Wednesday, at least, thanks to the porter, and we have a suspicion that he was around on Friday night. " Hathaway pulled into the car park and brought the car safely to a stop in the spot closest to the entrance.

"Yes, fantastic," Lewis said. "Let's hope Laura is speedy with that report. Once we can confirm that it's him and that it's murder, we can get into that room and have a poke about." He sighed, and looked ruefully at his watch. "That's my Sunday down the drain," he said, unfastening his seatbelt and getting out of the car.

"Did you have plans?" Hathaway asked, following his inspector to their office.

"I was hoping to get our Lynn a present for the baby. Nothing fancy, mind, I know what babies are, just…something," Lewis said. "Not clothes," he added. "I remember from when Lynn was born, you get all these clothes so small they break your heart, and then they grow out of them so fast that kind of breaks your heart as well. I was thinking maybe a toy or something, was going to go into town and have a look round." He stopped with a rueful little shrug. "I'm boring you," he said.

"It's actually quite sweet," Hathaway said. He meant every word, but he wasn't surprised when Lewis laughed.

"Get away with you," he said affectionately. "What were your plans?"

"Farmer's market," Hathaway said briefly. "Just occasionally I like to attempt to cook something that didn't come out of a tin and I thought, why not go the whole hog? Not literally," he added hastily. "Well, probably not."

Lewis laughed.

"Beans on toast again then?" he asked.

Hathaway gave him a look.

"Hardly. Heinz chunky vegetable soup," he said, in a voice intended to convey just how deeply he was wounded by that remark.

"No wonder you're so skinny," Lewis said. "Soup!" he muttered, fully intending Hathaway to hear.

"And other liquid refreshment," Hathaway said. "Time for a quick one this evening?" he asked hopefully.

Lewis hesitated.

"Your Sunday's ruined anyway," Hathaway pointed out. "Might as well wind up in the pub, introduce a bright spot."

"It's a school night," Lewis said, but he was grinning and Hathaway knew he'd won.

"Just a quick one," he promised. "I'll drop my car off at home and meet you there at eight?"

"I dunno how I let you talk me into these things," Lewis said.

"You need more excitement in your life," Hathaway said, nodding. "I'm sure your Lynn would agree with me," he added, and Lewis laughed.

"Funny, she said summat like that this morning."

"Then I'll see you in the pub, Sir," Hathaway said, and left on a high.

He'd always liked going to the pub with Lewis, right from the early days of their acquaintance. He hadn't really expected to like it – it had been obvious to him that this was something that Lewis did as an old routine, and Hathaway was wary of the way that Lewis sank his first pint in the time it took Hathaway to drink only half of his. After that first pint though, Lewis slowed down, his comments became less like barbs and more like banter and he would talk a little bit more about his life.

"I used to come here with Morse," he'd said once, when Hathaway returned from the bar with a pint in each hand. "Usually drank orange juice. He never even let me finish that, most of the time."

Hathaway had set the pints on the table in front of them.

"Well, I certainly won't be leaving before I've finished this," he'd said and Lewis had laughed, then changed the subject.

That had broken a barrier between them, though. After that Hathaway liked to think they'd got to know each other as people, individuals rather than just two men who did the same job. Pub evenings with Lewis now were more like meeting a friend, even when they'd gone straight from work and were still in their suits. Tonight though, Hathaway wanted to change. It was Sunday, and yes, they had a case and yes, they would both have to be in very early the next morning but tonight, Hathaway wanted to relax. And yes, he liked the way he looked in jeans,had once imagined he'd caught Lewis looking at him when he'd been wearing them, but this wasn't about that. It was about being comfortable on a Sunday with his friend. His boss. Who, he hoped, would also have changed, preferably into one of those blue cotton shirts that looked so soft and made him want to reach out and touch... So maybe this was a little bit about that.

Hathaway was there first, but not by much and yes, Lewis had changed and was indeed wearing one of his blue cotton shirts. Hathaway felt a little glow when he saw him, which may have been visible on his face. Lewis's own face lit up when he saw him though, and that was one of the things that always allowed Hathaway to hope.

Lewis bought a drink and sat down with him as if they hadn't seen each other barely four hours ago, talking about something he'd heard on the radio that he'd thought Hathaway would be interested in. Hathaway was and the conversation went with a swing. Hathaway barely noticed the time passing, and it was Lewis who eventually looked at his watch.

"We'd best be making a move," he said, and was that regret in his voice?

"Sure I can't tempt you into another?" Hathaway asked, knowing that they probably shouldn't but not wanting to let Lewis go without at least asking.

"Now you're trying to lead me astray," Lewis said sternly, standing and stretching. "Home, James!"

"I can't believe you're still saying that," Hathaway said, standing and shrugging into his jacket.

"It's a lifetime ambition!" Lewis said, as if that explained everything.

"It's a very old joke," Hathaway said.

"I'm a very old man," Lewis retorted, and Hathaway shook his head.

"Not too old to learn new tricks," he said, slightly more seriously than he'd intended, and Lewis didn't reply.

It was colder than Hathaway had expected when they stepped out into the open air, and he shivered as he automatically fell into step beside Lewis. They'd got most of the way back to Lewis's flat before either of them noticed.

"You didn't have to walk me home, James."

"I just wanted to make sure you got here safely," Hathaway said, as dryly as he could considering that he'd had no intention of following Lewis home when they left the pub.

"Well, you might as well have a drink now you're here," Lewis said. "Coffee, mind – we've both got work tomorrow."

"Are you going to invite me to look at your etchings?" Hathaway asked slyly.

"Where do you get these lines? Etchings, who even has etchings?" Lewis said, but his grin belied his grumpy words. He turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open. "I thought I was the old-fashioned one," he said, stepping inside and motioning Hathaway to follow him.

"Only with regards to technology," Hathaway answered smartly. "Mobile phones really aren't that complicated," he added as patronisingly as he could.

"Do you want coffee or not?" demanded Lewis, heading for the kitchen without waiting for an answer. Hathaway pushed the door closed behind them and followed him through.

"Make yourself useful, get the mugs out," Lewis said, holding the kettle under the cold tap.

"I can do mugs and milk," Hathaway said cheerfully, reaching into the fridge for the milk before moving to set it down next to the kettle before stretching for the mugs.Lewis came over to put the kettle on its stand and instead of moving to give him more room, Hathaway deliberately stayed still, forcing Lewis to brush against him. Lewis didn't seem to mind, pressing against him more closely than the smallish space really required and sending a little jolt right through him. He was so close, surely he wouldn't stand so close if he didn't want… Hathaway put the mugs carelessly onto the worktop, turned around and kissed him.

Lewis responded immediately, one hand coming up to cradle Hathaway's face and the other coming to rest on the small of his back. For a moment, Hathaway wasn't sure what to do with his own hands but then the temptation overwhelmed him and he went for the back of Lewis's shirt, struggling to get his hands on the skin underneath.

"God," Lewis said thickly as Hathaway succeeded in untucking his shirt.

"No, James," Hathaway said with a grin and Lewis kissed him again, the kettle forgotten. Hathaway slid his hands up Lewis's back, revelling in the feel of warm flesh under his palms, crowding Lewis into the work surface and kissing him fiercely. Lewis seemed to be on the same page because his hand had moved from the small of his back to rest lower, pulling Hathaway against him as much as Hathaway was pressing forward. Hathaway was just moving his hands back down with the intention of coming down Lewis's side and around to the front of his trousers when he heard a noise. He pulled back slightly, and he and Lewis stared at each other, wide eyed. Lewis looked flushed, lips red and hair tousled, and Hathaway knew he looked the same. He rolled his hips, just slightly, to watch Lewis's eyes glaze over.

The doorbell rang again.

"Shit," Lewis said, and Hathaway stepped back slightly.

"You weren't expecting anyone then?" Hathaway said, reluctantly removing his hands from Lewis's waist and smoothing his own hair.

"No I bloody well wasn't!" Lewis said. "Who the hell is ringing my front doorbell at this time of the flaming night?" He began struggling to tuck his shirt back in and Hathaway sighed.

"Do you want me to answer it?" he asked.

"Please," Lewis said, and Hathaway nodded and stepped into the darkness of the hall where he could adjust himself in private. When he thought he was as presentable as he was likely to get, he reached for the latch.

Hathaway opened the door and stared at the man standing there with a policeman's eye. He was around his own age, maybe a year or so younger but not more than that though the deep tan made it a little bit difficult to tell. Shorter than him but probably still six foot tall, with dark hair and oddly familiar blue eyes. His clothes were scruffy and not too clean and he was carrying a huge rucksack that looked as though it had seen better days. Hathaway gave him an interrogative glance and the man returned it with a combative look.

"I'm looking for Robert Lewis," he said.

"Rather late for casual callers," Hathaway said, not moving from the doorway and making no move to open the door any further.

"Oh, I'm not casual," said the man, and he smirked.

Hathaway frowned, unconsciously straightening up from his habitual slouch, fingers tightening on the door handle. He was about to speak when Lewis interrupted them.

"Who is it, James?" he called, stepping out of the kitchen. Hathaway noted with relief that he'd pulled his shirt straight before leaving the room, and if he did look a little bit flushed it was hard to tell in the dim light.

"Hello Dad. Long time, no see," the man said and Hathaway stepped aside to let him in, hoping the shock wasn't visible on his face.

"Mark!" Lewis said, sounding stunned. He made an abortive gesture, as if he'd considered a hug and then thought better of it and Hathaway winced. "I had no idea you were even in the country! Come through into the kitchen." He retreated back to the kettle and Mark breezed past Hathaway without a second glance, dumping his rucksack in the entrance to the master bedroom and then sauntering on into the kitchen, leaving Hathaway to trail awkwardly in his wake.

"Spur of the moment," Mark said. "Not interrupting anything, am I?" he said, looking from his dad to Hathaway with a curious expression.

"He's my sergeant," Lewis said shortly, as if daring Mark to comment on the fact that it was 11 o'clock on a Sunday night and neither he nor Hathaway were dressed for work.

"I was just leaving," Hathaway said, trying to keep the frustration from showing in his voice. "You two must have a lot to catch up on."

"I'll see you tomorrow," Lewis said, slightly absently, and perhaps it was wishful thinking on Hathaway's part but he thought there was a moment of hesitation there.

"Goodnight, sir," he said, and as he turned to let himself out he saw Lewis pour hot water into the two mugs that Hathaway had prepared for them.

 

**

 

"Spur of the moment from Australia?" Lewis said, once Mark was seated in the living room with a cup of tea and a packet of biscuits.

"You know how these things are," Mark said with a wave of his hand. "I've been in England a week or so, thought I really ought to show my face here." He fell silent and took a sip from the mug in his hand. He hadn't opened the biscuits, had barely even glanced at them and Lewis wished he'd opened them before he handed them over so he could take one without fuss. He rather wished he hadn't had that last beer. Either that or that he and James had stayed for that last one and he hadn't been in when Mark arrived.

"Does your sister know you're back?" he asked, and Mark shook his head.

"Nah. Like I said, I wasn't sure I'd really have time."

"Are you here for work then?" Lewis said, feeling the old frustration come back, far stronger than he'd expected after such a gap.

"Yeah," Mark said. "So, how's life in Oxford then? Not sure I approve of this place."

"Oxford doesn't change," Lewis said, ignoring the slight on his flat. "We're looking into a murdered student at the moment. Washed up on the river bank this morning, poor lad."

"It really doesn't change, does it?" Mark said. He picked up the packet of biscuits but didn't open it, fiddling with the little red strip in a way that was more likely to snap it off than open the packet.

"So what've you been up to then, lad?" Lewis asked, deliberately not watching. "Our Lynn said you were in Melbourne?"

"Oh, you know," Mark said. "Worked in a bar in Melbourne for a bit, got fed up of that and went up to Sydney, then had a couple of months in the bush which didn't suit me at all so I went back to Melbourne. Suddenly had a longing for the green green grass of home and here I am."

"Do you know what your plans are?" Lewis asked, unable to stop himself, and Mark snorted.

"You haven't changed a bit," he said, and there was no mistaking his tone. "Always wanting to know what my plans are, what I'm going to do with my life."

"Oh, come on," Lewis said. "You've hardly been back ten minutes, it's a bit soon for this, don't you think?" and perhaps both of them had grown up in the eight years since they last spoke face to face because Mark subsided, taking a large gulp of his coffee before finally opening the biscuits.

"I'll make up the spare bed for you," Lewis said, when Mark showed no signs of breaking the silence. "That is, if you want to stay," he added awkwardly when Mark looked up at him.

"Yeah, uh, that'd be good."

"Right then, I'll get on with it," Lewis said, getting to his feet and rubbing his hands together nervously. Mark didn't look up, didn't show any sign of moving, so he headed into the spare room to smooth out sheets with shaking hands


	2. Monday

Lewis headed straight for the morgue when he arrived at work on Monday morning. Laura was bustling around doing whatever it was she did, but she came over to him with her customary smile when she saw him lurking in the doorway.  
"Fairly straightforward, I'm afraid," she said as they walked through to her office. "Stabbed twice. Both blows caught the heart – both left and right ventricles were damaged, along with the intraventricular septum. In plain English, the two largest chambers of the heart and the wall that divides them were severely compromised. The heart wouldn't have been able to pump blood around the body or to the lungs - he'd have been dead within minutes. Was dead, in fact, before he hit the water, which would have been very shortly afterwards. No other injuries – whoever killed him knew what they were doing and he didn't have time to fight back."  
She handed him the file and stood expectantly as he flicked through it.  
"Positive ID?" he asked.  
"Dentals match. And don't ask how I got the dental records this quickly – I know a man who knows a man, if you know what I mean!" she said. Lewis snorted.  
"Plenty of alcohol in the blood," he noted.  
"And cocaine. Not much, but it's there. We're testing the hair to see where he was a habitual user but we've not got those results back yet."  
"Not a crime of passion, then." Lewis said thoughtfully. "A killer who knew what they were doing, ID and a wallet on the body – this wasn't a mugging either." Lewis closed the file, and looked at Laura. "Thanks for this," he said, closing the file. "Makes my life much easier."  
"Not at all," Laura said. "I'll send the full report and the rest of the tox screen when we're done."  
"Thanks," Lewis said, and turned to take the file up to Hathaway.

~

"Good morning, sir," said Hathaway when Lewis arrived in the office, a file that looked very much like the post-mortem results tucked under his arm.  
"Morning, James," he said. "Look, about yesterday…"  
"It was nice to meet Mark," Hathaway interrupted. "However briefly," he added, and Lewis gave him a look.  
"Yes, and I didn't mean to hurry you out so fast," he said. "It was a bit of a shock, that's all."  
"Mark or…" said Hathaway, unable to resist. Lewis blushed faintly.  
"Well, both if you must know," he said. "Not that I'm complaining, mind. Anyway, he'll be staying a few days, I think. If he has plans, he's not sharing them with me."  
"I see," said Hathaway. "Well, the good news is that the Master of St Anthony's is eagerly awaiting our arrival to discuss the issue of their most recently lost soul. Maybe she'll be more use than the people we've spoken to so far."  
"I doubt it," Lewis said. "All the people we've spoken to so far say that Richard Cadwallader is very good at keeping his secrets – the only mystery she'll be able to solve is how on earth he got in in the first place."

~

"Money," she said, quite frankly. "Full tuition fees up front, there aren't many who can do that nowadays. Not that he wasn't qualified, don't think that. He was at Durham for his undergraduate, got a First of course, and the references from his tutors were all fine, good even. He was good at the interview too," she mused, flipping thoughtfully through the file. "Had promise. No real duff notes, though… well, in hindsight there might have been a couple of signs but whoever had a totally blameless undergrad career? All those parties… No reason to suspect he wouldn't be as good as the next."  
"And was he? As good as the next, I mean," Lewis said.  
"When he bothered to show up," she said candidly. "I didn't teach him myself, the joy of this position is in the paperwork rather than the pupils, you see. His tutor was getting quite annoyed. Said Richard was brilliant when he chose but he very rarely chose. Nothing annoys a scholar more than wasted talent."  
"You'd think you'd get used to that," said Lewis, and she gave him a reproachful look.  
"Not in Oxford, Inspector. Not at postgraduate level." She frowned. "We're actually reviewing our admissions criteria, to prevent it happening again."  
"Murder?"  
"No, the waste of a place," she said impatiently. "From all accounts, Richard wasn't going to pass, was unlikely to even submit. That looks bad. Makes people ask questions."  
"Bad enough that someone would want him out of the way?" Hathaway said. It was the first time he'd spoken and Lewis felt a strange little thrill go through him at the sound of his sergeant's voice.  
"Of course not," the Master said. "Students fail for all sorts of reasons, but we don't like waste, you see. Or embarrassment. Richard was an embarrassment and likely to become more so rather than less, but all colleges have them occasionally. Certainly, it's a frequent enough occurrence."  
"You're changing your admissions procedures!" said Lewis.  
"Reviewing," she said sharply. "To avoid waste. We turn down a lot of people, it's not only in our interest to make sure that only the deserving get in, it's a matter of justice, do you see? Richard Cadwallader took a place that a more deserving student could have taken and has been very busy wasting everybody's time since he arrived. No one likes to have their time wasted, Inspector."  
"Well, we won't take up any more of yours," Lewis said. "Where can we find his tutor?"  
"Down the hall and to the left," the Master said. "You can show yourselves out."  
~  
Richard's tutor looked like a stereotypical academic, even down to the tweed suit and an egg stain on his tie.  
"Ah, so you're the police then," he said, showing them into his cluttered office. "The Master told me this morning, terrible thing."  
"We've heard that Richard wasn't the most reliable of your students," Hathaway said.  
"Oh, no, not at all. Wretched boy never showed up for anything. Submitted the occasional essay, stunning work, no idea why he didn't apply himself, very frustrating. He could have had a glittering future."  
"Did he have any problems at home?"  
"Not that we're aware of. I asked him, of course, made it clear that we could be understanding, but no. He was young, he drank a lot and, well, the rumour was that he 'got in with a bad crowd' if you know what I mean,"  
Lewis and Hathaway exchanged glances.  
"Can you be a bit more specific?" Lewis asked.  
"This is just gossip of course, we don't tolerate…if there'd ever been anything official he'd have been out on his ear… The rumour was that he took drugs."  
"But there was no proof?"  
"Oh no, no proof. We did go as far as to search his room, a step we don't take lightly, but there was nothing. He had money from home, I mean, this is Oxford, everyone has a rich daddy here. But yes, there were suspicions but we could prove nothing."  
"I see. And were any of the other students mixed up in this?"  
"No, no," he said quickly. "Just him."  
He lapsed into silence, and Lewis and Hathaway waited patiently. At last, he looked up.  
"Richard was a nice boy," he said quietly. "A bit muddled perhaps, but very clever for all that and so charming. Whatever he might have been doing, his death is a tragedy. I wish you luck in capturing the culprit."  
"Thank you for your time, sir," Lewis said. He nodded to Hathaway, who opened the door and lead them back out into the corridor, leaving the professor sitting at his desk.  
"Did he seem a bit too upset to you?" Lewis said. "I mean, gifted or not, the boy was a chancer. The Master wasn't at all sorry to see the back of him."  
"She hadn't spoken to him herself though, had she?" Hathaway said. "From all accounts, in person he was a bit special."  
"Yeah, but, to his tutor? The man responsible for chasing up his essays?" Lewis shook his head. "Doesn't seem right."  
"Not all of us are immune to charm, Sir," Hathaway said, and to his amazement Lewis blushed slightly.  
"Well, let's see if we get more from searching his room than they did," he said briskly.  
~  
The porter, Mr Halthorn, showed them up the stairs in silence.  
"I won't come in," he said after he'd unlocked the door. "It doesn't seem right, somehow. It'll lock behind you when you leave, just pull it to."  
"I see," said Hathaway when Lewis didn't seem inclined to speak, and the porter nodded and left.  
"He took it badly," Hathaway observed when the door had closed behind them, leaving them standing in the middle of a fairly ordinary student bedroom.  
"He did," Lewis agreed, looking thoughtfully around them. The posters on the wall were all standard issue, there was a laptop on the desk and a closed text book next to it but no pens or paper. The room wasn't tidy as such but it wasn't messy either. It didn't look as though its occupant spent a great deal of time there, but the bed was unmade and the stained bottom sheet indicated that it was inhabited occasionally. Lewis pulled on a pair of gloves.  
"I'll take the desk, you take the bedside cabinet," he said.  
The desk held nothing of interesting – a few scraps of paper that seemed to be notes of some sort, probably related to an essay. The textbook had nothing between its pages and the laptop was password-protected with no information about what that password might be.  
"Anything?" he asked, turning to Hathaway, who was rifling through some magazines he'd found in the bottom drawer."  
"Just his collection of wank mags, sir. Not my thing," Hathaway said. Lewis glanced at the large-breasted woman on the front.  
"I can see that, sergeant," he said. "Anything else?" He felt himself blush fire-engine red when he realised what he'd said. He waited for a smart remark, but then realised that Hathaway was blushing too. There was a long pause, as they both looked at each other. Hathaway's tongue flicked out to moisten his lips and Lewis felt his eyes drawn to the movement. For a moment, he almost forgot that they were in the middle of a murder investigation and that they were standing in the dead man's room. All he could think of was the way Hathaway's lips had felt under his, what they would feel like if he…  
"I haven't found anything out of the ordinary," Hathaway said hastily, getting down on hands and knees to look under the bed. He leaned forwards and pulled out a battered looking suitcase. Straightening up, he deposited it on the stained sheet and fumbled with the zip. Yanked sharply back to the present, Lewis watched his every movement but didn't speak.  
"Ah," Hathaway said, when he pulled the lid back to reveal quite a large quantity of cash.  
"There's got to be over a grand in there!" Lewis said. "Any drugs?"  
Hathaway ran a gloved hand through the piles of notes.  
"Not in here, anyway," he said. "Shall I call forensics?"  
"You might as well," Lewis said, looking around. "Don't think we're going to get much else out of this."  
Hathaway closed the lid on the case, revealing the wank mags again.  
"Do we take this, sir? The suitcase, I mean," and Hathaway was blushing again.  
"We do," Lewis said, suddenly finding the whole thing extremely funny. "Come on, James, let's remove all temptation. " He opened the door and stepped out into the corridor, holding it for Hathaway as he came through. Although he'd allowed plenty of room, Hathaway allowed their bodies to brush and he gave Lewis a mischievous smile as Lewis followed him back down the stairs.

**

"I'd like a list of all the students on Richard's floor, please," Hathaway said to the porter. "We need to make sure we speak to everyone who might have any information."  
"Of course," Mr Halthorn said, going over to the computer and pressing a few buttons. "What a terrible thing, I can't believe it. Nothing like this has happened in all the years I've worked here."  
"I'm going back to the station, get the CCTV and see if Laura can shed any light on time of death," Lewis said. "See you later." He gave Hathaway a brisk nod and headed out of the college in the direction of his car.  
"Right," Hathaway said, taking the list of names and putting stars next to the ones they'd already spoken to. "Where can I find the rest of these upstanding citizens?" he asked Mr Halthorn, who just shrugged.  
"You could try their rooms, I suppose? Some of them will be in the library, but the odd one might be in."  
"Thanks for your help," Hathaway said, not entirely sarcastically. He headed back up the stairs to begin knocking on doors.  
"Are you Samantha Hurst?"  
"I am," she said. Hathaway showed his badge.  
"It's about Richard Cadwallader," he said. "May I come in?"  
Sam's room was much better than Hannah's had been, and it would have been possible for him to sit on the desk chair, if he'd wanted to.  
"I need to ask you a few questions about Friday night," Hathaway said. "Can you tell me where you were?"  
"I was in here, trying to work on my essay," she said. "I had a family party this weekend so I was going home on Saturday, and if I hadn't finished my draft before I went, I knew it wouldn't get done."  
"Did you see Richard at all?"  
She laughed.  
"See? No. Hear? Oh hell, yes! Hannah told you what he's like, yes?"  
"I need you to tell me," Hathaway said.  
"He'd brought some girl back. No idea who, but she wasn't one I'd heard before," Sam said. "He's not here often, and when he is here he's rarely alone. This one was ridiculously loud – I put my music on really loudly and I could still hear her. It's impossible to work in those conditions," she said. "I banged on the wall but it just seemed to encourage her. I packed up and went to the library in the end."  
"What time was that?" Hathaway asked.  
"About half past seven. I just really needed to get the damn draft done, and it didn't sound like little miss 'oh GOD yes,' was going to shut up any time soon."  
"What time did you come back?" Hathaway said.  
"About 1. They were gone by then," Sam said. "I just went to bed. God, I feel terrible!" she burst out. "I remember wishing they'd just shut the fuck up, thinking that I could kill him for this, and now he's dead!"  
"Thoughts and actions aren't the same thing," Hathaway said. "You couldn't have known anything was going to happen."  
"I'm going to be a better person from now on," Sam said. "I'm not going to think things like that again."  
"Try not to feel too guilty," said Hathaway awkwardly. "Can you think of anyone else who might have seen or heard Richard that night?"  
"I'm not sure," she said. "I was a bit preoccupied with my draft."  
"Any idea where he might have gone?"  
"Not really," Sam said. "He didn't go to any of the student places." She frowned. "I think I once heard one of his boyfriends mention The Jukebox, but I'm not sure."  
"Boyfriends?" Hathaway asked, writing down 'The Jukebox?'  
"Well, fuckbuddies, I dunno. Richard enjoyed a lot of bed partners, of both genders. Most of them were not as loud as Friday's girl. They changed so often, I can't imagine that he was serious about any of them."  
"And were any of them serious about him?"  
"I've no idea. Occasionally I bumped into one of them in the corridor, but we didn't exactly chat."  
"Well, you've been very helpful," Hathaway said. "If you think of anything else, get in touch."  
"OK," Sam said. "Do you think she did it?" she asked.  
"Far too soon to say, I'm afraid." Hathaway said, letting himself out.

~ 

The next room revealed a particularly Oxford young man. His room was as neat as a new pin and he stammered slightly when he asked Hathaway to come in.  
"N..no, I didn't know Richard well," he mumbled awkwardly. "I spend most of my time in the labs, you see. I'm only here now because I left the textbook I needed here by mistake." He showed Hathaway an extremely large book on the classification of fruit flies.  
"Bedtime reading?" Hathaway asked.  
"Yes, exactly!" he said, his eyes lighting up. "They're fascinating creatures, and genetically…"  
"I need to ask you about Friday night," Hathaway cut in, before he could be subjected to a monologue on the many fascinating features of fruit flies.  
"Ah, yes, of course. I stayed in the lab until 8 and then came back here."  
"Was Richard in his room?"  
"I…" The boy blushed fire engine red. "I, um, believe so. There were, uh, noises."  
"What kind of noises?" Hathaway asked, partly to see whether the boy would blush so much his ears would turn red.  
"Sex noises," he said. "Richard uh, was very popular. This one was a girl."  
"Did you see her at all?"  
"N..no," he said. "I went to my friend's."  
"What time was that?"  
"About 9. She was…really very loud," he said. "  
"Any idea where Richard went when he wasn't in college?" Hathaway asked, taking pity on him.  
"Afraid n…not. I'm not really one for clubs and things," he said apologetically.  
"I see," Hathaway said. "Well, you've been very helpful," he said. 

~

Most of the rest of the interviews went along the same lines. No one had actually seen Richard, though several of them had heard what appeared to have been a sex session lasting several hours.  
"He wasn't even that good looking," one of the rowers said in disgust. "I'd love to know how he does it!"  
Hathaway had pretty much given up hope on finding out anything useful when he reached the end of the list. He knocked on the last door more for the sake of completeness than with a genuine hope of enlightenment.  
"Yes, I knew Richard," said Daniel, when he opened the door. He was a short, handsome Chinese boy, very neatly dressed. "We slept together at the start of the year."  
"Were you romantically involved?" Hathaway asked, trying not to show his surprise.  
"Not at all," Daniel said. "Perhaps I had hoped…but Fresher's Week is not the time for such things and Richard is not the settling down type."  
"I've heard that he was quite promiscuous," Hathaway said.  
"That is certainly true. At least eleven partners that I know of since the start of this term alone."  
"That's quite an exact number," Hathaway said. "Were you and he friends?"  
"We occasionally spoke when he was in college. Not that that was very often," Daniel said, rearranging some of the items on his desk. "Perhaps we were friends, who can say?"  
"But he told you about his lovers?"  
"My room is next to the stairwell," Daniel said. "I hear them come in and out." He looked slightly shifty. "I was not spying, you understand," he said. "I just…noticed."  
"Of course," Hathaway said. "Did you happen to notice the girl on Friday?"  
"She was young and blonde," Daniel said. "I did not speak to her."  
"Did you manage to catch her name at all?"  
"No. I told you, I was not spying," Daniel said, moving over to the bookshelf and removing and replacing books haphazardly  
"Of course," Hathaway said placatingly. "And what time did they leave?"  
"Perhaps half past nine," Daniel said, and Hathaway suddenly realised that the boy was crying. "I do not remember."  
"Any idea where they were going?" Hathaway said gently.  
"None," Daniel said. "He spent a lot of time in the rough part of town. I assume they were going there."  
"Can you be any more specific than that?" Hathaway asked. "Did he ever mention any places in particular?"  
"A café, Speedy's? It is on Mill Road. They will not have been going there, it is not late night," Daniel said dismissively. "I told you a lie when I said we were not romantically involved," he said, taking a tissue from a little packet and dabbing at the tears which were now flowing freely. "He was not but I am afraid I was."  
"I'm sorry," Hathaway said awkwardly.  
"Why are you sorry? It is not your fault that I… Forgive me. I think I have told you everything that I can."  
"If you think of anything else, then please let me know," Hathaway said, handing Daniel a card. "You've been most helpful."  
"Find out who killed him, please." Daniel said. He turned away, and his shoulders shook. Hathaway left the room as quietly as possible.

**

Laura did indeed have a more detailed report for Lewis, but unfortunately it didn't really answer any more questions.  
"It's been unseasonably hot the last few days," she said. "With that and the water…well, you've got people who say he was alive on Friday night so I'd say he could have died any time between then and…Saturday evening."  
"24 hours," Lewis said blankly. "You can't give me a 24 hour window! I thought pathology was supposed to clear up this sort of thing!"  
"I'm working on it!" Laura said. "But the alcohol and the drugs muddy the picture, as do the weather and the water. He was murdered next to the river and his body was thrown into it almost immediately but I'm afraid I can't tell you with any degree of certainty exactly when that was. The current had knocked him about a little but not much so he probably wasn't in there for very long…I'm sorry Robbie, but that's the best I can do for now."  
She looked up at him apologetically and Lewis sighed.  
"I'm sorry. I don't expect you to work miracles. It's just…this case should have been open and shut, you know? His ID was still in his damn pocket! As it is, it's like he's the Invisible Man or something – drifts in and out as he feels like it, no one knows where he's been or where he's going to, and now you can't even tell me when he died! There's just nothing to go on!"  
"Well, I'll let you know when we find out anything more," Laura said. "Good luck."  
"Looks like I'm going to need it," Lewis said grumpily, and headed back up to his office.

~

"We need to track down this girl," Lewis said, before Hathaway had even had the chance to sit down. "I've got CCTV for most of Oxford, but without someone to tell us which way he went when he left the college, we'll both be watching it for the rest of the week."  
"We can focus our viewing on the rough part of town," Hathaway said drily. "According to a young man who I would describe as somewhere between a jilted lover and a stalker."  
"You met someone who actually knew him?" Lewis asked. "Wonders will never cease!"  
"Even he wouldn't go as far as that," Hathaway said. "It sounds as if they fucked once and he's spent the rest of the year listening at keyholes. Still, we know that Richard and the girl he was with left college around 9.30 and that we can focus our attention on 'the rough part of town' with potential emphasis on a café called Speedy's and a club called The Jukebox."  
"I've heard of that!" Lewis said. "I'm pretty sure there was a drugs connection at some point."  
Hathaway shrugged.  
"Afraid I can't help you there," he said. He picked up the CCTV from outside the college put the disc into the machine.  
"Let's see where you went," he murmured.  
"I'm going to phone the lab, ask them to simulate where the body would have gone in," Lewis said. Hathaway nodded, without taking his attention off the screen, and Lewis watched him for a moment before making his phone call to the lab, trying to ignore him. It wasn't easy. If he were honest, it hadn't been easy for a while. What had happened in the kitchen had felt so right, like the final piece of the jigsaw puzzle clicking into place. If it hadn't been for Mark… Well. Lewis had the feeling of unfinished business in more ways than one, and it wasn't a feeling he liked. Mark hadn't been awake when he left the house this morning. He'd left him a note and a door key, but it had grated.  
He looked at the clock. Well after 2, no wonder he was hungry.  
"I'm going to get a sandwich. Do you want one?"  
Hathaway looked up and smiled.  
"No prawns," he said.  
"No prawns," Lewis agreed. He wanted to brush his fingers over Hathaway's shoulder as he walked past, but he didn't.  
He headed for the sandwich shop two streets away, the one he and Hathaway usually went to. Instead of going in, however, he continued on down to the river and sat on a bench, taking his phone from his pocket.  
"Hello Dad," Lynn's voice said when he finally pressed the button to call her.  
"Hello pet, how are you?" he said.  
" I'm big as a house and ready for all this to be over!" she said with a laugh. "If I've got another two weeks to go, I won't even be able to walk!"  
"You and your brother were both late," he informed her. "Val was so fed up."  
"I bet," she laughed. "What makes you call me on your lunch hour?" she asked, getting straight to the point.  
"Couldn't I just want to talk to my little girl?" he asked.  
"We talk in the evenings after six and at weekends," she told him, and Lewis laughed. "Besides, we only spoke yesterday! Nothing amazing can have happened between now and then, surely."  
Lewis thought of the two amazing things that had, and smiled.  
"Did you know Mark is in England?" he asked.  
"No, you're kidding!" Lynn said. "Since when?"  
"I don't know exactly, he hasn't said. Turned up at my place yesterday night, at damn near midnight, said it was a spur of the moment thing," Lewis said.  
"Cheeky sod! I can't believe he didn't tell anyone he was coming," Lynn said. "I emailed him last week, he might have mentioned it."  
"That's your brother for you," Lewis said, more bitterly than he'd intended.  
"Oh, don't be like that," Lynn said. "I know you two don't always see eye to eye but he's been doing well out there, as far as I can tell."  
"I know," Lewis said. "I email too, sometimes." He sighed. "Not like I can talk either. After your mum…well, you know," he said. "The future will be better," he promised. "I'll get it right."  
"You're going to be a fantastic granddad," Lynn said. "I'll email Mark, tell him to wait to visit me until the baby's born. Did he say when he's going back?" she added.  
"No," Lewis said, and he laughed despite himself. "Not that I asked," he said. "Well, I'd best be off. James won't wait forever for his sandwich."  
"I'm sure he'll wait as long as he has to," Lynn said. "I love you, Dad. Take care of yourself."  
Lewis said his farewells and then dialled his own home phone number. As he'd expected, it rang six times and then the answerphone picked up.  
"Hello Mark, it's me," he said. He paused slightly in case Mark picked up, but then went on. "Just ringing to see whether there's anything you wanted for tea. The machine should pick up the number, just…text me or something." He paused again, not so much waiting for a response now as trying to decide what else to say. When he could think of nothing further, he cut off the call and made his way back up to the sandwich shop, thinking hard.  
When he got back to the office, Hathaway was still slumped in front of the CCTV, legs splayed. He looked up when Lewis came in.  
"Did you get lost?" he asked.  
"Cheeky," Lewis said, dropping both sandwiches on the desk in front of him and going to fetch his own desk chair. "So, what have you found?" he asked, sitting down next to Hathaway so that their bodies were pressed together right the way down one side and they could both see the screen. Hathaway swallowed, and when he spoke his voice was slightly tighter than usual.  
"He did indeed go to the rough part of town. Footage from various store fronts has got him heading down to The Jukebox."  
Lewis nodded.  
"Girl still with him?" he asked, and some insane impulse prompted him to place his left hand gently onto Hathaway's leg, mindful of the glass-fronted office. Hathaway just nodded, and didn't move. His leg was warm and solid under Lewis's hand. He'd known Hathaway was skinny, had seen him in running shorts a time or two, and now he took the chance to feel the muscles under his hand. On the pretext of leaning forward for a better view of the screen he slid his hand forward, down onto Hathaway's knee, enjoying the way the bulk of the quadriceps narrowed down to the bone of the knee.  
"Can't get anything useful on the passers-by, can we?" he said, peering at the grainy, pixelated faces of the pedestrians. Hathaway shrugged, and Lewis leaned back, moving his hand back up Hathaway's thigh as he did so. Hathaway's right hand came down to cover Lewis's left, and Lewis glanced at him, wondering if he'd gone too far. Of course he'd gone too damn far, he was feeling the lad's leg in the middle of the damn office when anyone could walk by! Hathaway made no attempt to move Lewis's hand though, just rested his own lightly there. Lewis squeezed his leg slightly, and Hathaway squeezed his hand in return.  
"And that's 22.32 into The Jukebox," Hathaway said, and Lewis had never been gladder his sergeant was left-handed because it meant he could make a note of that without separating their hands.  
"Bit early, isn't it?" he asked. "I thought these places didn't open til 11?"  
"It's probably pretty empty," Hathaway said. He hadn't pressed pause on the footage and now they both sat, watching the figures come and go.  
"I phoned our Lynn," Lewis said after a while. "Mark hadn't told her he was coming back either. She said to make sure he comes with me to visit her after the baby's born."  
"That's soon, isn't it?" Hathaway said, thumb idly caressing the back of Lewis's hand.  
"Supposed to be next week but could be any time, really. Val went over with both of them, so Lynn'll probably be the same, isn't that how it works?"  
"Not really my area," Hathaway said wryly, and Lewis snorted.  
"Yeah, well. I dunno, we got on OK when he was younger. Got a bit more awkward when he was a teenager, but doesn't it always? I remember fighting with my da when I was that age, the things I used to say. But then, when Val…well, I guess I'd missed too many parents' evenings and school plays by that point to make it up." He stopped, but Hathaway didn't speak, just made a soft encouraging noise. "I do email him though. Not as often as I could, maybe. It was easier with our Lynn. Maybe that's how it is with daughters. Would you forgive your dad, if you were him?"  
"I don't have much to do with my dad," Hathaway said. "I don't know whether that's my doing or his, but it seems to suit us both." He shrugged, and leaned forward to look more closely at the scene.  
"That's him," he said. "02.39." They watched as Richard exited The Jukebox. The girl had disappeared, and walking next to him was a tall man in jeans and a dark-coloured jacket. They were moving slightly too purposefully for people leaving a club at that hour and they disappeared into an alleyway that Lewis knew would take them down to the towpath. Hathaway exchanged a glance with Lewis, and then leaned forward with an exclamation.  
"Someone followed them," he said, backing up the tape, before resuming about 5 minutes after Richard had left. A thickset man wearing jeans and a white T shirt came out of the Jukebox and headed straight for the alleyway that Richard had walked down. He too was moving with intent.  
"02.47," said Hathaway aloud, writing down the time. The man disappeared from sight and Lewis reluctantly stood up.  
"I think we'd better get down there and have a chat with the bar staff," he said. "See if any of them remember anything about any of them. You stay here, see if any of them come back up, or if anyone else goes down that alley."  
"Of course," Hathaway said. "I'll sit here in front of the telly while you go to a club. The romance has gone out of this relationship."  
It was the sort of remark he made all the time, but this time Lewis couldn't make the jocular reply he always had before.  
"I'll bring you a pasty," he said after a pause that had gone on slightly longer than usual.  
"If you do that I will definitely never forgive you," Hathaway said, though he had clearly noticed the pause.  
"Fine, fish and chips then," Lewis retorted. "You drive a hard bargain."  
"I know my worth," Hathaway said loftily.  
Lewis snorted, and walked out of the office, leaving him to it. 

~

The Jukebox was the sort of place Lewis had always hated, even when he was younger. All shiny metal and neon lights, and he bet that when it was open, the music would be so loud you wouldn't be able to hear yourself think. Currently, though, it was silent, and the fluorescent lights exposed the shabbiness of it all.  
"Can I speak to the manager?" Lewis asked the tiny Japanese woman who had opened the door to him.  
"You're looking at her," she said. "Jenny Sato. How can I help you?"  
"I've got a few questions about Friday night," he said, showing her his badge and watching as she effortlessly lifting a crate of bottles and carried them along to a distant fridge, where she began to unload them with quick, economical movements. "First, though, how did a woman like you end up with a place like this? I thought the landlord was Ivan Ansell?"  
"I haven't been here long, it's what's called 'under new management' but I enjoy it. The regulars are a nice crowd, even if they look a bit rough, and the bouncers can sort the rest."  
"Do you have regulars in a place like this?" Lewis asked, looking around at the dirty floor and battered tables. "It's not exactly beer and skittles, is it?"  
Jenny laughed. "That's as may be but we still have regulars," she said, putting aside the empty crate and fetching another. "I don't get to speak to them as much, maybe, but there's sometimes a lull and it's quiet at the start."  
"Is this someone you've seen before?" Lewis asked, showing her the picture of Richard.  
"Richard, yes," she said. "So sad. He was in on Friday, he and Jade arrived just after opening."  
"Did you speak to him?" Lewis asked.  
"Not much. Jade came over for a chat a bit later, but Rich was talking to some mate of his, Dave maybe?"  
"Do you know Jade well?"  
"She works here," Jenny said. "Wednesdays and Saturdays, she's saving up for a once in a lifetime trip to India, says working Saturdays stops her drinking all her wages. Not that you'd know it from the state she was in on Friday."  
"What time did she leave here?"  
"About quarter part two. She was completely out of it. I've not seen her in a state like that for a long time, so I got Ryan, one of the bouncers, to put her into a taxi."  
"Do you know why she was that drunk?"  
"I think she and Richard had had some sort of argument. They were fine when they got here, but Jade doesn't like Dave. She was pretty incoherent by the time she was talking to me but she kept saying that she didn't want to wait for the Australian, that she wanted to try out the new place in town but Richard wanted to stay."  
"Do you mind her doing that? Supporting the competition, I mean?"  
"She's bar staff, not the owner. Even if she were, we all go elsewhere on occasion. Suss out the competition, get new ideas. You can't play where you work, after all. Things get messy."  
"But the taxi took her home, not into town."  
"She could hardly stand so yes. Ryan would tell you for sure, she probably wouldn't have been telling the taxi driver anything."  
"Any idea who Richard left with?"  
"None," Jenny said briskly. "After Jade left, I stopped paying attention. Very busy time of night, I was just glad to get her out of the way before she puked on the floor."  
"Would anyone else know? Dave maybe, or Ryan?"  
"Maybe. I can give you Ryan's details because he works here but I've no idea about Dave."  
"Have you heard any rumours about Dave and drugs?" Lewis asked.  
"We have a strictly no tolerance drugs policy," Jenny said firmly, but she wouldn't meet his eyes. "Anything like that gets you barred."  
"Any rumours of him dealing off-site?" Lewis asked. Jenny stayed silent. "Come on Jenny, people like you know everything."  
"I've not been here long," she said defensively, but then sighed and spoke quickly, almost unwillingly. "There are rumours that if you want something, he's the one to ask, Dave or Richard, if Dave's not here. I've never caught them at it, I've made the drugs policy plain but… business is business, you know? You can't ban people because of gossip, the place is under new management but it doesn't have new staff… I've done what I can," she said. "It's all talk anyway, That sort of thing always goes on. In some ways the drink is worse – at least the druggies don't puke everywhere."  
She sounded like a woman trying to convince herself and Lewis nodded.  
"I'll take the address for Ryan and the other bouncer now, please," he said. "You've been very helpful," he added as she printed it off and handed it to him.  
"Yes, well," she said. "I hope you get it sorted."  
"So do I," Lewis said, taking the hint and leaving.  
~  
It was nearly five thirty when Lewis got back to the office. Hathaway had made one of his amazingly detailed whiteboards, and the thought of sitting down and trying to add to it made Lewis's heart sink. Hathaway was perched on the corner of his own desk, tapping his lower lip with a pencil as he made random notes, and Lewis couldn't look away. The idea of sitting quietly behind his own desk and ignoring him was just too much.  
"I'm calling it a day," he said, and Hathaway looked up at him in surprise, though he didn't say anything about the early hour.  
"I'm almost done here," he said, and there was a pause. Something of what Lewis had been thinking must have shown on his face because Hathaway spoke again.  
"Do you want to come to mine and get that book I promised you?" Hathaway said, slightly tentatively, and Lewis nodded silently. He stood by the door until Hathaway was ready and they didn't speak at all on the way to the car park.  
Lewis followed Hathaway back to his house, parking slightly more carelessly than he usually did. Hathaway had got the front door open by the time Lewis made it up the path.  
"After you," Hathaway said, slightly mockingly. Lewis gave him a sharp glance and walked straight in, stopping in the hall. Hathaway shut the door behind him and Lewis stepped right up into his space.  
The kiss was better than the previous one. This time it was Lewis who was desperate to get his hands on skin. He wanted to touch and lick and kiss every single inch of Hathaway, and Hathaway seemed more than happy with that. It was only when Lewis was almost at the point of dropping to his knees in the hallway that Hathaway made a sound of protest. Lewis paused, pulling back slightly to look Hathaway in the eye.  
"Bed?" Hathaway suggested and Lewis nodded, taking advantage of the short journey to the bedroom to take his shirt off properly instead of having it awkwardly halfway down his arms. The sunshine was pouring through the bedroom window and as Hathaway strode over to close the curtain it illuminated him in gold. Curtains closed, he turned around, one hand on his waistband to stop his unfastened suit trousers falling to the ground.  
"God, look at you," Lewis said. There was still some light creeping around the edge of the curtains and Hathaway looked almost like a Greek god, if Greek gods had had neatly tied leather work shoes.  
"Shoes off," Lewis commanded, dropping to one knee to wrestle with his own laces. Hathaway imitated him and they both reached the bed at about the same time. Once again, Lewis took the lead, pressing Hathaway back onto the pillows and kissing him deeply. Hathaway's hands were everywhere and Lewis took some time to just enjoy the moment before beginning to work his way down Hathaway's chest, caressing and stroking and licking and kissing every inch, until Hathaway was breathing raggedly and clutching his hands in the duvet.  
"Oh God," he said when Lewis finally reached his trousers and pulled them not just down but completely off. Lewis sat back and just stared at him. Hathaway was sprawled naked on the bed, hard cock resting flat against his stomach, breath ragged and pupils dilated. As Lewis watched, his tongue came out to lick his lips.  
"You too," Hathaway said roughly. "Fair's fair," and Lewis shoved his own trousers off, watching Hathaway's face the whole time.  
Lewis didn't let him look for long, he couldn't wait to settle himself between Hathaway's legs. He hadn't done this for years but, he thought slightly giddily as he took the tip into his mouth, it was clearly one of those things that you could always do, like riding a bike. He knew he was a bit rusty but from the way Hathaway's hands came down, one to rest in his hair and one to clutch at his shoulder, and from the expression on the man's face when Lewis dared to peak up at him through his lashes, Hathaway didn't seem to mind.  
Hathaway was talking now, a steady string of 'god, yes, fuck, please' that had Lewis's own cock begging for attention. Lewis kept up a steady rhythm while he got used to this and then he tried a twist of his tongue that made Hathaway yell. Lewis braced himself and swallowed hard as Hathaway came, not pulling away until Hathaway was completely spent. Lewis moved up the bed to join him and Hathaway gave him a hazy smile.  
"You've done that before," he said, pulling Lewis in for a kiss.  
"Aye. Not since I met Val, though."  
"I haven't," Hathaway said.  
"It doesn't matter," Lewis said, taking Hathaway's hand and guiding it to his own cock. "It won't take much," he warned and Hathaway kissed him again as he expertly brought Lewis off.  
"There's tissues," Hathaway said after a while, nodding over Lewis's shoulder at the bedside cabinet. When Lewis showed no sign of moving, Hathaway sighed heavily and leaned over to grab them, cleaning them both up a bit before settling back down. Lewis immediately pulled him in for a lazy kiss. They kissed for quite a while before Lewis's stomach growled. Hathaway laughed.  
"We should get up," he said. "I don't think I've got any decent food in the house – would you like to get an Indian?"  
Lewis sat up slowly, the post coital bliss vanishing as if someone had poured cold water on him.  
"I need to be getting back," he said apologetically. "I ought to eat with Mark."  
"OK," said Hathaway, but he was no longer smiling.  
"I'm sorry," said Lewis, knowing the words were inadequate but not knowing what else to say. "Another time, I promise."  
"I'll hold you to that," Hathaway said, rolling out of bed and pulling on a pair of tracksuit bottoms that rode dangerously low on his hips. Lewis froze in the act of swinging his own legs over the side of the bed, and gave him a speculative look.  
"Come here," he said in a low voice, and Hathaway gave him an uncertain look. Lewis beckoned and Hathaway moved over, coming to a halt just slightly less than arm's length away from Lewis.  
"What about Mark?" he asked slightly breathlessly. Lewis could see that he was already hard.  
"He's a big lad, he can wait another ten minutes," Lewis answered, putting his hand on Hathaway's hip and reeling him in.

~  
The flat was quiet when Lewis opened his front door.  
"Mark?" he called, but got no answer. A glance at the clock showed that it was half past seven, a bit late maybe but earlier than he usually came home these days, earlier than he'd come home when he was working with Morse. He flicked on the hall light and went into the kitchen to pick up the note he knew would be on the table.  
"Waited until seven, then went for food with a mate. Don't wait up. Mark."  
Lewis crumpled it in his fist before throwing it in the bin.


	3. Tuesday

 

Hathaway arrived at the office at 8.07 the next morning, a good half hour before he was expected to be there. With a case on, that wasn't unusual. What was unusual was that he found it nearly impossible to settle to work. He was supposed to be reviewing the witness statements, deciding who (if any) to follow up, who else to speak to, but he found himself glancing at the clock every couple of minutes and the words he did manage to read didn't seem to stick in his brain at all.

When Lewis came in he was scowling slightly but his face relaxed when he saw Hathaway.

"You're nice and early," he said. "It's not half eight yet."

"Crime is 24 hours," Hathaway said, and Lewis laughed.

"Anything strike you?" he asked, nodding at the statements.

"Not really," Hathaway admitted. "Bit of difficulty concentrating." He was appalled to find himself blushing.

"Oh aye?" Lewis said, getting a wicked look in his eyes.

"I forgot to have breakfast," Hathaway said, deadpan, and Lewis rolled his eyes, grinning.

"How was your evening with Mark?" Hathaway asked quickly, before they could spend any more time staring sappily at each other.

"It wasn't," Lewis said shortly, heading over to his desk and picking up the pathology report. "He'd left by the time I got in."

"Bugger," said Hathaway, striving for a light tone but not sure he was getting there.

"Yeah, just me and the telly again," Lewis said.

There was an awkward pause.

"I didn't…" Lewis began, just as Hathaway said

"It wasn't…."

"After you," Hathaway said, and he was SURE that Lewis was about to say 'No, you,' when the phone rang.

"Lewis."

Whoever was on the other end spoke briefly. Hathaway couldn't make out the words, despite straining his ears, and Lewis's face was giving nothing away.

"We're on our way," he said after a moment and hung up.

"We're in luck," he said to Hathaway, who gave him his best 'polite enquiring' face. "The girl who was with Richard the night he died has come forward."

 

**

 

Lewis looked through the one-way mirror at the girl sitting in the interview room. She had long blonde hair that kept straying over her shoulder. As they watched, she flipped it back with an impatient gesture that had an air of habit about it.She was fidgeting too, shifting from side to side and picking at her nails. Every now and then, she glanced at the door.

"Right then," Lewis said after a while, and gestured for Hathaway to follow him into the interview room.

"Miss Tomlinson? I'm Inspector Lewis and this is Sergeant Hathaway. I believe you wanted to speak to us?"

The girl nodded. Close to, she was younger than Lewis had expected.

"It's Jade," she said. "I knew Rich, was with him on Friday."

"Can you tell me your date of birth for the paperwork?" Hathaway asked, and Lewis shot him a grateful look as Jade rattled off a date that made her just barely 18.

"That's the right one 'n all," she said. "It was great when I turned 18, made everything a lot easier." She laughed awkwardly.

'I'll bet it did,' thought Lewis, but decided not to comment.

"How did you meet Richard Cadwallader?" he asked instead. Jade's eyes filled with tears and Lewis braced himself but she didn't cry, just swallowed hard before speaking.

"In The Jukebox," she said. "Our Sharon had finished with her boyfriend so we were all out dancing. I saw Richard at the bar, bought him a drink and decided to see where it led."

"How long had the two of you been together?" Lewis asked.

"We weren't together exactly. We just went out a couple of times, you know?" She directed this to Hathaway, who nodded. Lewis couldn't resist raising an eyebrow ever so slightly; he was pretty certain that Hathaway did not know. Hathaway ignored him.

"How long ago did you meet?" Lewis asked.

"I guess a couple of months," she said. "After Valentine's, anyway."

"Tell us about Friday," Lewis said gently, and her tears welled up again.

"We met up after I finished work, in the café over the road. We went for a drink at the Hare and Hounds, and then he said he needed to get something from his room so we went back there. After we left, we went to the Jukebox. It was a bit early so it was a bit dead, really, but Rich knew the guy behind the bar so…" She trailed off, and this time she didn't manage to stop a tear escaping.

"What time did you leave?" Lewis asked.

"I was pretty drunk," she said. "Rich was off somewhere, talking to the Australian, and I was chatting to some guy, I dunno.I thought I was gonna vom so I went outside and then just got a taxi. I don't think the club had closed, but I'm not sure."

"Did you go home with anyone?"

"No!" she said, fiercely. "Rich and I, I mean, it wasn't serious but I'm still his girl, you know? I wouldn't do that to him."

"I'm sorry, I just have to ask." Lewis said. "Would anyone else have noticed what time you left?"

"The guy I was talking to, maybe?" she said doubtfully. "I don't remember his name, though. Oh my god, you think I did it!" She started crying properly. "I didn't, I swear. I have no idea what happened to him after he went off with the Australian, he said he'd come back but I was so drunk and there was this guy…"

"Hey pet, don't fret," Lewis said, as soothingly as he could. "We need the facts so we can work out what happened to Richard, it's not your fault at all."

"I never said it was," she said belligerently, tears abating somewhat.

"Tell us about the Australian," Hathaway said. "Did Richard know him?"

"No, I don't think so," Jade said, perking up a bit. "He mentioned him at the pub, said he was going to meet someone important tonight, but it was Davewho introduced them."

"Can you remember his name?" Hathaway said. "Or what he looked like?"

Jade frowned.

"I think he was tall?" she offered, taking a tissue out of her bag and dabbing at her eyes. "I dunno, I was talking to Jenny. Oh, Jenny might know what time I left. She texted me on Saturday, I remember, checking I was OK."

"Jenny the manager of the Jukebox, yes?" Lewis said.

Jade nodded.

"Would she have spoken to the Australian?" Hathaway asked.

"I dunno," Jade said. "I'm sorry." She sniffled. "I just…maybe if I hadn't got so drunk, we'd have gone home together, or I'd have known he didn't come back."

She pressed her lips tightly together and Lewis waited for a moment before posing his next question.

"We've heard a rumour that Richard was into drugs?" he said. Jade didn't move, but her expression sharpened. She didn't respond though, just stared at the table. "Jade?"

"I don't take drugs," she said in a brittle voice. "He knew I didn't, if he had any he wouldn't have offered them to me."

"Did he take drugs?" Lewis said, quietly but forcefully.

"I think so," she said. "I don't think about it. He's a nice guy… he was a nice guy, and we're not serious. It was just a bit of fun!"

"I know," Lewis said. "I know. But I'm afraid we need to know more about it now. We'll try and keep it quiet if we can, but we need to know who he got them from."

"The café, I think," she said. Her face was pale now but her eyes were dry. "I think he got them from the café opposite where I worked, Speedy's. He'd often be hanging out in there, waiting for me to finish. I'm pretty sure the Australian had something to do with it, can't think why else Rich would think he was important."

"I see," Lewis said softly. "Is there anything else you can tell us? Anything we ought to know?"

"He was nice," Jade said softly. "He was so smart, and a right laugh. Not like the rest of the students, all so up themselves. Rich had a way of looking, like I was the only person in the room."

"We will find out who did this to him," Hathaway promised. He had a sheet of paper in front of him, and now took the lid off his fountain pen. "Could you give me the address of the café?"

Jade told him and Lewis slipped out of the interrogation room, leaving Hathaway to it.

 

**

 

"Poor girl," Lewis said when Hathaway came back to the office after showing Jade out. Hathaway nodded.

"She knows more about the drugs than she's letting on," Hathaway said. "Not surprising, really."

"Why do people get themselves mixed up in all this?" Lewis said. "It's not as if there aren't better things to do."

Hathaway laughed.

"What?" Lewis asked, but Hathaway just shook his head, giving Lewis an affectionate smile.

"Have you heard anything from the drugs squad?"

"There's a lot of cocaine around, bit more than usual as far as they can see," Lewis said. "No news on where it's come from though. I'll pass on the word about this Australian, see what they can dig up."

There was a pause as they both looked at each other.

"I think you should take the café and I'll take witness statements from people at the club. I doubt any of those drunks saw anything useful, and that place, I bet they wouldn't tell me if they did but it's worth a try." Lewis said. "We need to get moving on this, before Innocent starts breathing down our necks."

"As you wish," Hathaway said, with a slight smirk. There was another pause, a heated look, and then Hathaway nodded at his Inspector and headed out to Speedy's café.

 

~

 

The café looked like any other greasy spoon. Hathaway drove past it and parked a little further down the street, walking back up and looking carefully at the rest of the street as he did so. There was nothing particularly remarkable about it, it wasn't a very affluent area but it wasn't very run down either, just another suburb. He stepped inside the café and walked casually to the counter, glancing around. Apart from two old men drinking tea, the place seemed deserted.The door to the kitchen was open, and when Hathaway arrived at the counter he could see a tall thin man in an apron talking on a mobile phone. He clearly saw Hathaway at the same time, because he said:

"Gotta go, customer," into the phone before hanging up and shoving the handset into the back pocket of his jeans.

"What can I get you?" he said.

"Are you the owner?" Hathaway asked. The man nodded warily.

"Philip Edwards," he said.

"I'm looking for some information," Hathaway said, flashing his badge. "What can you tell me about this man?" he asked, reaching inside his suit pocket to produce a picture of Richard. The man barely glanced at it before opening his mouth. Hathaway had his best sceptical expression in place before he'd even heard a word.

"Never seen him before," he said dismissively.

"We've been told he was in here on Friday afternoon," Hathaway said.

Philiplooked at the picture slightly more closely.

"With the blonde with the legs?" he asked.

"That would be him," Hathaway said. "Did they stay long?"

"Not them. They've been in the last couple of Fridays, they maybehave a cake between them and leave. Usually sit over there, which suits me fine. " He nodded at the seats opposite the mirror, and Hathaway thought of the short skirt Jade had been wearing when they interviewed her.

"Did they speak to anyone on Friday? he asked, trying not to let his distaste show on his face.

"I dunno. I just sell stuff and mind my own business. Once they've handed over the money, they're not my problem until table-cleaning time."

"And would one of the things you sell be drugs? A bacon barm and a bag of Charlie?"

Philip glared at him, and Hathaway glared right back.

"I sell what's on the menu up there, nothing else." Philip said through gritted teeth. "This is a nice café, legit. I dunno what Richard was up to and I don't want to. I've nothing else to say."

There was a pause, in which Hathaway tried not to blink.

"Uniform will be round later today to collect the CCTV from the weekend," Hathaway said eventually. "Thank you for your time," he added, as insincerely as possible.

He phoned Lewis the second he was back in the car.

"He knows something – called Richard by name, for one thing, though he was very cagey otherwise – we've nearly got him for refusing to cooperate."

"Good. I'll see you back at the station."

 

**

 

Lewis looked at Ryan. He'd learned not to put too much faith in stereotypes, but he'd never seen anyone who looked more like a bouncer. He wasn't quite wider than he was tall, but it was a close run thing.

"Ryan Tanner?I'm Chief Inspector Lewis. May I have a word?"

"Come in," Ryan said, opening the door straight away.

Lewis, who had perhaps been putting more faith in stereotypes than he'd like to admit, was momentarily wrong-footed, but followed the man through the cramped hallway into the almost equally cramped kitchen.

"Tea?" Ryan said.

"No ta," Lewis said, taking the seat Ryan offered him. "It's about The Jukebox. I believe you work there?"

"That's right. Nearly ten years now," he added, sitting down opposite Lewis with an enormous mug of tea.

"You must like it then," Lewis said.

"It's alright. Gotta work somewhere, might as well be there." He took a tentative sip of his drink, putting it back on the table when he realised it was still too hot.

"I hear it's under new management," Lewis probed.

"Jenny? Yeah, she's nice. Won't last, mind, not her sort of place at all. Ivan was great but Jen's got ideas. Wants to make it a wine bar or whatever." Ryan's face showed what he thought of that idea. "Nah, she'll be out in a year, I bet."

"Do you know Jade Tomlinson at all?"

Ryan grinned.

"Oh, Jade's fab, a right laugh. Doesn't hurt that she's a looker, either – knows it too, even if she acts like she don't. Top girl."

"Was she in on Friday?" Lewis asked.

"Yeah, but not working. She was totally plastered, Jen got me to send her home about two, she was so bad."

"Did she definitely go home?"

"That's where we called the taxi for," Ryan said. "It was Fleet cabs, think it was Sam who drove her. Is she in trouble?" he asked, suddenly sounding worried.

"No, not at all. We just need to confirm where she was on Friday night. Was she with anyone at the Jukebox, do you know?"

"Her fella, Richard," Ryan said immediately. "They had a row though, that's why she was that wrecked."

"What was the row about?" Lewis asked.

"Richard was waiting for his mate Dave and the Australian, and Jade wanted to leave. I think – I was on the door all night and when Jade told me she wasn't making much sense."

"Did you see Dave or the Australian?" Lewis said.

Ryan shrugged, and took a gulp of tea.

"Fridays are busy. I probably did but I couldn't swear to it." He leaned forward, and Lewis had to fight the urge to lean back. "Look mate, what's this about?"

"Richard was found dead on Sunday morning," Lewis said. "We're trying to trace his movements on Friday night, see if that sheds any light on the matter."

"You haven't asked about Richard though," Ryan said, scowling. "Why all these questions about Jade if Richard's the one who's dead?"

"Jade came to see us," Lewis said truthfully. "She couldn't remember what happened but she remembered seeing you," he lied. Despite himself, Ryan looked pleased and Lewis pressed his advantage.

"Did you know Richard well?"

"He's been coming in the last few months. Student, isn't he?" Ryan said dismissively. "Took up with Jade after Christmas sometime."

"It doesn't sound as though you liked him much," Lewis said.

"Yeah, well, he was alright," Ryan said. "Could be nice when he wanted, and he usually wanted."

"We've heard rumours that he was involved in drugs," Lewis said.

"Not on the premises," Ryan said quickly. "We have a strict no drugs policy," and Lewis thought ruefully that clearly, all the money spent on staff training had paid off.

"Off the premises?" he asked.

"Can't stop anyone doing anything off the premises," Ryan said. "Jade wasn't involved though," he said. "She doesn't like that sort of thing. Think that's why she was so upset about waiting for Dave and the Australian."

"Were they involved in drugs?" Lewis asked.

Ryan blew out his lips.

"Look, I've seen nothing, OK? I don't do that shit myself, I don't wanna know about it."

"But you suspect?"

"It wouldn't surprise me," Ryan said, leaning back in his chair and drinking the last of his tea. "Is there anything else? I've got things I need to do."

"Can you tell us what time Richard left?"

"No idea," Ryan said cheerfully. "I was off the door by then, on toilets, I wouldn't have seen what time Jade left if I hadn't put her in the taxi." He stood up and Lewis stood too.

"Thanks for your help," he said.

"No problem," Ryan said, and Lewis let himself out.

 

~

 

Peter, who had been working the door with Ryan, was slightly more helpful.

"Yeah, Richard left with some guy in a black jacket," he said. "No one I'd seen before but I think he came in with Dave." Peter was a wiry little man in his late thirties or early forties, and looked nothing like a bouncer, though Lewis suspected that he was a vicious fighter when he got the chance. His nose had clearly been broken more than once, and there were a couple of scars on his hands and forearms that added to the impression of violence.

"Is Dave a friend of yours?" Lewis asked.

"Not really," Peter said. "He's in a lot, that's all." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and glanced around his front room as if it was unfamiliar to him.

"We've heard rumours that he was involved in drugs," Lewis said, wondering why the man didn't sit down.

"Yeah, I think so. Offered to sell me some coke once. I said no, obviously, and he didn't ask again."

"When was this?" Lewis asked, and perhaps he sounded too interested because Peter just shrugged, face closing off again.

"Dunno, a while back. There's no dealing in the club anyway," he said.

"Do you think Richard could have been involved in drugs?"

"Well, they'd have had nothing else in common. Dave's thick as two short planks, and say what you like about Richard, he's not stupid."

"You don't have much nice to say about Richard," commented Lewis. "Did he do anything particular to upset you?"

"Little shit had it too easy," Peter said. "Coming in, a fucking student and strutting around like he owned the damn place. I know that sort. He was slumming it, plain and simple, thinking all this is some sort of game. He's a rich boy and when he got tired of this, he was going to go straight back to his rich daddy and his lovely life. I'm not an animal in the fucking zoo, inspector. I'm happy with my life, but kids like that…they think they can just click their fingers and everyone else will jump."

"Did anyone else feel like this?" Lewis asked.

Peter snorted.

"They're younger, ain't they?" he said. "I'm getting too old for door work, inspector. My joints are going, I need to work indoors a bit, better hours. I got no qualifications, no skills. Summat'll turn up, but God knows what, and that little shit talking about working the door like it's a childhood dream."

"Richard was looking to do door work?" Lewis asked.

"Nah, he was just running his mouth," Peter said. "I put him right. Not to speak ill of the dead and all. I quite liked the lad sometimes."

"Did you see what time he left on Friday?"

"Nah, I keep an eye on the people coming in, not the people going out," Peter said.

"Was Dave in on Friday?"

"Yeah, I think so. Him and some bloke,"

"The Australian? Can you tell me what he looked like?"

"Tall, scruffy, jeans, black jacket," Peter said. "Nothing special."

"Right. Well, if you think of anything else, give us a call," Lewis said, holding out his card. Peter took it, but as Lewis turned to close the door behind him he saw him put it straight into the rubbish bin.

 

**

 

Hathaway was on the phone to the drugs squad when Lewis came in. He nodded at his Inspector, but kept most of his attention on the man on the other end of the phone.

"We've had an eye on The Jukebox for a while. Haven't got much out of our contacts yet, we can't go clumping in with our size elevens like you lot can," (Hathaway rolled his eyes,) "but as I told the Inspector, there's more cocaine around than usual at the moment, and word seems to be it was the Australian who brought it. We've had some trouble tracing him though – he was staying at Dave's house for a bit but seems to have moved on. We've got the place under surveillance but we don't really expect him back."

"Any luck with Speedy's café?"

"Not yet, but we're working on it," Simmons said. "You certainly put the wind up them when you went there this lunchtime – Edwards spent the whole afternoon on the phone."

"I'll take your word for it that that's not his usual pattern," said Hathaway drily. "Thanks for your help. I'll pass over anything else we get – give us a ring when you trace the Australian, yeah?"

"Sure."

Simmons hung up and Hathaway put down the receiver to raise a curious eyebrow at his boss.

"How was your day with the criminal underworld, Sir?" he asked. Lewis shrugged.

"Neither of the bouncers liked him, one because he's after Jade himself and one because he doesn't like posh youngsters treating his life like a tourist attraction."

Hathaway snorted.

"And were either of them prepared to drop him in it?"

"Oh yes," Lewis said. "Not him, exactly, but the bloke Dave who seems to have been his friend, one of them admitted to being offered drugs by him. Wouldn't say anything further, of course, just that Dave was definitely involved with drugs and that Richard very probably was too. Both were keen to make sure Jade was kept out of it."

"Keen enough that we should bring her in again?" Hathaway asked, and Lewis frowned.

"No, I think not," he said, after a pause. "She has an alibi, after all, and even though the bouncers like her, I can't imagine a young lass like that hiring someone to kill her boyfriend."

"It seems unlikely," Hathaway said. Lewis sat down behind his desk and began reading through his notes, and Hathaway went over to the big whiteboard to update the new evidence. He kept thinking that Lewis was watching him, but every time he glanced around, Lewis was looking down at his notes.

 

~

 

"Right then, I'm off," Lewis said. "Want to get home early today, eat with Mark."

Hathaway nodded, and Lewis thought he looked ever so slightly disappointed.

"You didn't bring your car today, did you?" Lewis asked. "Fancy a lift?"

"That would be lovely," Hathaway said, moving to his desk to turn the computer off and pick up his jacket.

Lewis led the way to his car, and Hathaway slotted himself into the passenger seat with the ease of long practice. The drive to Hathaway's place was made almost in silence, and when Lewis pulled up in front of the house, he turned the engine off completely. The sun, which had been in his eyes most of the journey, was now off behind the passenger side and Hathaway's face was in shadow as he turned to face him.

"I was wondering whether you might like to come in," he said, and Lewis felt a flash of heat go through him. He was tempted, so tempted. Mark was in his thirties, after all. Even if he'd stayed in, he could manage getting himself a sarnie, it wasn't like he hadn't been looking after himself for years…

"I can't this time," he said reluctantly. "I ought to get back to Mark."

It was too dark in the car for him to make out Hathaway's expression, but he could see him pull back slightly.

"Of course," Hathaway said smoothly. "I understand."

"Look, it's not…" Lewis said, reaching out awkwardly and grabbing one of Hathaway's hands. "It's not, it's… I wasn't always the father I would have liked to have been," he said, before his nerve deserted him. "I can't, I mean, it would be different if I'd been working," he said, but he didn't take his hand out of Hathaway's.

"I understand," Hathaway repeated. "You want to check on your son. It's OK."

"I'm sorry," Lewis said, unable to resist the urge to thread his fingers through Hathaway's.

"I should go," Hathawaysaid, but he didn't move, instead staring down at their intertwined fingers, running the pad of his thumb over the back of Lewis's knuckles."I would do anything to kiss you right now," he said suddenly, and pulled his hand away sharply. "Enough. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Right," Lewis said hoarsely. Hathaway nodded jerkily, and was out of the car and halfway up the drive before Lewis could say anything further. He watched him put the key in the lock and then drove away without looking back.

When he got home, on the dot of six, Mark was still not there.

"Meeting a friend for a couple of beers," his note said cheerfully. "See you tomorrow!"

Lewis swore aloud, hurling the note angrily into the bin. He spent the rest of the evening cleaning – it was the only thing he could think of to do that didn't involve smashing things, or phoning James.

 


	4. Wednesday

Hathaway was really annoyed by how much this thing was getting to him. He'd spent most of the previous evening debating whether to text Lewis or not. Text! He was pretty sure Lewis could reliably open them himself now, but he'd never texted him anyway because of how much Lewis complained about mobiles. Yet even after he'd decided that a message would be unwelcome, he'd wondered whether to phone!

"You'll see him soon," he promised himself, when he woke up in the morning and was irrationally disappointed by the fact that Lewis hadn't texted him overnight. He ended up getting to work early and was startled to see Lewis already at his desk.

"Good morning, sir," he said out of habit.

Lewis had been frowning but when Hathaway spoke he looked up and smiled, and Hathaway felt his heart leap.

"Morning," was all Lewis said, but Hathaway could feel a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"You're early," he commented, heading over to turn on his computer.

"Yeah, well. Mark was out when I got home last night, and though he was in this morning he clearly wasn't going to get up any time soon," Lewis said. "I've left him a note," he added, darkly.

"And what does the note say?" Hathaway asked.

"That I will be home by six and he will be there," Lewis said. "I'm not a bloody hotel!"

"Then we had better make sure that you are home by six. Where do you want to start?" Hathaway said, typing in his password and waiting for the computer to load.

"I want to go over all those witness statements. Something doesn't add up," Lewis said."I'd like you to go out to that café again, see whether this Australian fellow has turned up. Take a camera with you, can't be too careful now there's a drugs connection."

"On my way," Hathaway say, turning his computer back off again and standing up, ignoring the tug of disappointment in his stomach as he headed back out to his car.

 

**

Left alone, Lewis dug out the notes of the conversations they'd had with Jade, Jenny and the two bouncers. He read them all again carefully and then began annotating the timeline Hathaway had drawn on the board.

19.00– 21.30(ish) Jade and Mark in St Anthony's

22.32 – Jade and Richard in the Jukebox

02.00 - 02.15(ish) – Jade leaves the Jukebox, very drunk, upset that Richard insisted on waiting for Dave and the Australian.

02.39 Richard out of the Jukebox with a man in a black jacket – the Australian?

 

"We need to trace Dave," he said aloud, forgetting for a moment that Hathaway wasn't there."Not to mention the damn Australian!" He then realised that Hathaway wasn't there and laughed slightly, before picking up his notes again.

'Either of those bouncers could have done it – not his biggest fans – back to Jukebox to check alibis? See if bouncers have contact details for Dave?'

He looked at the statements again and saw that he'd remembered to record the telephone numbers for both bouncers. He nodded to himself and dialled.

"Hello Ryan? It's Detective Inspector Lewis," he said.

"How can I help you?" Ryan said. The number he'd been given was a mobile and it sounded as if Ryan was out somewhere. Lewis could hear cars in the background.

"I need to ask you some more questions about Friday night," Lewis said. "Do you know how I could get hold of Dave?"

"Sorry?" Ryan said.

"Do you know how I could get hold of Dave?" Lewis said, trying to repeat himself more loudly without sounding frustrated.

"Sorry, no idea. He'll probably be round at the Jukebox on Thursday or Friday – he's one of our regular crowd."

"Any idea what his last name is?" Lewis asked, pretty sure that it was futile.

"Sorry." Ryan did actually sound sorry, but Lewis was willing to bet the emotion was feigned.

"What time did you get home after your shift on Saturday?" he asked.

"Probably about 5," Ryan said, and his tone was guarded. "The place shuts at 3 but it usually takes some time to get everyone safely out.My bus is at 3.30 or 4.30, and I usually get the 4.30 one, so I get home about 5."

"And did you get the 4.30 bus on Saturday?"

"Yes, I did." Ryan sounded unfriendly now, but that was par for the course.

"Where do you wait for it?" Lewis asked.

"I get paid til 4, Inspector. Jenny lets me have a drink to fill the time after that. Ask her, if you don't believe me."

"Well, thanks for your help," Lewis said.

"No problem," said Ryan, and hung up.

'Check the alibi with Jenny. Look at CCTV to see where he was. Was he being friendly to hide a guilty conscience?' Lewis wrote, then wondered whether to cross that out. He did put a thin pencil line through it, but left it legible. He didn't think Ryan had done it, but he still wasn't sure that Ryan had told him everything he knew. 'Check Ryan's record,' he wrote, and then phoned the other bouncer.

Peter was clearly appalled to hear from him.

"Look, I've told you everything I know," he said. "I don't know what you think you're going to find out by pestering me."

"I just want to know whether you have any contact details for Dave," Lewis said. "A last name, a phone number, anything like that?"

"No," Peter said flatly.

"How about the Australian?" Lewis asked.

"Oh, him. Never even spoken to him," Peter said dismissively.

"What time did youget home on Saturday morning?" Lewis asked.

"Oh, now you think I did it? Just because I don't have a phone number for Dave…"

"I don't think anything of the kind," Lewis interrupted. "These are routine questions, so if you wouldn't mind?"

"About half four," Peter said sullenly. "We get paid til 4, make sure everyone's out, and then I walk along the towpath."

"Did you see anyone while you were down there? Any signs of a struggle?"

"Everything was normal," Peter said. "I didn't see anyone."

"Well, thanks for your help," Lewis said. Peter cut the connection without another word.

'Peter on towpath as well,' wrote Lewis. 'Was Richard still there? Did he see the murderer?' Frowning, he went to review the CCTV.

At about quarter to twelve, he yawned and stretched. Where the hell was Hathaway? Either Edwards had seen the Australian or he hadn't, surely? Lewis debated phoning him, but then dismissed the idea. Hathaway would be working, better not to interrupt him. Lewis updated the board with his thoughts and went to phone the bus company.

 

**

 

The café was as deserted as the last time Hathaway had been there, and the proprietor just as unhelpful.

"Look," he said, when he recognised Hathaway. "I told you everything I know. You won't find anyone here who can tell you anything else."

"Any sign of the Australian, Mr Edwards?" Hathaway said, looking at the sad selection of pastries and deciding not to bother.

"Look, I don't know what you think you've heard, but I have nothing to do with drugs. This place is legit, and it's clean." Edwardswas sweating slightly, shifting from foot to foot.

"Of course," Hathaway said smoothly. "I'd like a cup of tea, please."

"What?"

"This is a nice café, legit. I'd like a cup of tea," Hathaway said.

"Right," the proprietor said, making it as grudgingly as possible and yet managing to put it down on the counter in front of Hathaway without spilling a drop. Hathaway silently paid and walked over to one of the corner tables, where he took out both phone and newspaper.

'drinking tea made with hate not hot water, the things I do for you' he typed, pressing send before he had time to reconsider. He checked the phone was on silent and put it into his pocket without waiting to see if Lewis replied.

The morning passed slowly. Various people came in and out and Hathaway dutifully photographed them all, although none of them matching the description of the Australian or any of his possible contacts. After an hour, Hathaway bought another cup of tea, though he hadn't been able to force himself to drink the first one. The proprietor served him without meeting his eye, and Hathaway returned to his vigil.

It was almost lunchtime when the Australian walked in. Hathaway wouldn't have guessed if it hadn't been for the way the proprietor's flickered from the man in the doorway to where he was sitting and then back again. The man ordered, and Hathaway listened, mind racing. The proprietor clearly didn't say anything to alarm him because he walked over to one of the tables and sat down. Hathaway watched him from under his eyelashes, hoping against hope that the man wouldn't look up and recognise him. There could be no doubt about it. The Australian, probably one of the last people to see Richard Cadwallader alive, was Mark Lewis.

Mind racing, Hathaway did nothing at first. Mark sat there for about ten minutes, and then another man came in, bought a cup of tea and sat next to him. Hathaway made sure to get a clear photo of Mark's face as he listened to their conversation. None of it seemed very interesting, none of it seemed to be code. It all seemed completely innocent, and yet…

Mark spoke to three other people while he was in the café, one of whom Hathaway recognised as one of the local dealers. They didn't appear to actually make a transaction, but Hathaway noted down enough of the conversation to confirm that they had had dealings in the past.

Finally, finally, Mark left and Hathaway gave him five minutes before folding up his paper and heading back to the station.

 

~

"You took your time," Lewis said snappishly when Hathaway walked into the office. "You weren't supposed to spend all day on it!"

"Sorry, sir," Hathaway said mechanically. "The criminal underworld doesn't keep early hours."

"Well, did you find anything new?"

Lewis looked at him enquiringly, and Hathaway braced himself.

"I didn't find anything good, sir," he said, apologetically.

Lewis frowned.

"Spit it out, then," he said.

"The Australian, how exactly did they describe him?" he asked. Lewis blinked but went over to the pile of statements on the desk.

"'Rich went off with the guy, just in from Australia. Tall, dark hair, jeans. I hadn't seen him before but he seemed to know his way around.' What of it?"

"The proprietor was just as unhelpful as last time but I'm pretty sure I got the right guy. He's not actually Australian, which is why it's been tricky to trace him." Hathaway swallowed. "Sir, it was Mark."

Lewis stared at him.

"Don't be ridiculous!" he said. "Mark, my Mark?"

"Yes sir," Hathaway loaded the pictures from the camera up onto the computer and selected one. Mark's face appeared on the screen in perfect clarity, and Lewis sat down hard.

"I didn't speak to him," Hathaway said. "I stayed until he left, took photos of the people he spoke to and wrote down what they said as best I could, but I didn't speak to him."

"Right," Lewis said. There was a long pause. "I'm going to have to talk to Innocent about this, aren't I?" he said after a while. Hathaway nodded cautiously.

"Dammit!" Lewis stood up and moved towards the door. "Well?" he snapped. "You coming?"

Hathaway stood and followed his Inspector at a respectful distance.

 

~

 

"I hope you're here to tell me you've made a breakthrough," Innocent said as she saw them both standing in her doorway. Lewis walked in, and Hathaway pulled the door closed behind him.

"Well?" she said.

"Your story, sergeant," Lewis said, and Hathaway gave a brief rundown of his morning.

"Oh, Robbie," Innocent said softly.

"I can't question me own son in a murder enquiry!" he burst out, accent far thicker than normal.

"It's out of the question," she agreed. "I'm afraid that you two are off the case."

"Why me, ma'am?" Hathaway asked quickly. "I've never spoken to Mark."

"I think, under the circumstances…" Innocent said slowly.

"We're nearly there, ma'am. The Australian was the missing link. Once we speak to him, everything should fall into place." Hathaway said quickly, not catching Lewis's eye. "It'll be much easier if someone who knows the case stays on."

"I'll have to put someone in above you," Innocent said.

"Of course. This has to be by the book, for all our sakes," Hathaway said.

Innocent sighed.

"Right then," she said. "Robbie, I think you should take a few days of leave, until this business is sorted out. I'll take over for now, if we really are close to finishing?"

"Yes ma'am," Hathaway said. Innocent leaned over to pick up her phone and Hathaway moved to open the door.

 

~

 

They walked back to the office in almost silence. Only once the door was shut behind them, and Lewis was looking blankly at his desk, did Hathaway speak.

"You should come over to mine tonight, sir," he said. "Takeaway, a film, take your mind off things."

"It's hardly appropriate, is it? What with you…" Lewis cut himself off. "You know, until you showed me that picture, I thought you were wrong," he said. "And then, you know what my first thought was? 'But our Mark's a nice boy.'" He snorted. "All these years, they all bloody say that, 'not my son, he's a nice boy'. You'd think I'd know better by now, after all this time, how did you put it? 'Picking through the ruins of other people's lives'? " Lewis added. "What a flaming joke." He was pacing, almost literally tearing his hair out.

"Robbie, don't," Hathaway said, stepping up into Lewis's space and forcibly stilling him. It was the first time he'd called Lewis by name at work, and it made Lewis meet his eyes for the first time since they'd come into the room.

"I will make sure that this is dealt with properly, by the book." Hathaway said. "And in return, I'd like it if you came round to my flat for dinner this evening. It's not a condition," he added hastily, suddenly aware of how this might sound. "I would really like it if you came."

Lewis nodded, then looked at his desk.

"I suppose I don't need any of this stuff," he said. "I'll see you tonight, then."

"Half seven," James said. "You'd better take this," he said, and pulled the front door key off his car keys. Lewis reached out to take it, and Hathaway pretended not to see the shine in his eyes, turning back to his desk until he heard the office door close.

 

~

 

Once Lewis had gone, Hathaway gathered his notes and headed back to Innocent's office.

"I was just about to come and find you," she said. "Come in."

Hathaway walked into the room, but couldn't quite bring himself to sit down in front of her desk, instead standing by the window. Quickly, he outlined all the facts of the case so far, from Richard's many and varied sexual partners to his drug connections and to the mysterious Australian who, it was rumoured, was bringing him some cocaine to sell.

"The CCTV shows it was Mark, and Mark was in the café this morning, talking to a lot of drug dealers," Hathaway concluded.

"Time to bring him in then," Innocent said. "If he's not involved, he should be able to give us some sort of explanation, at least." She did not say what would happen if he was involved.

 

~

 

Hathaway stopped the car outside Lewis's house just where he always did. He usually arrived in the evening, but mid-afternoon wasn't totally unknown. He gave a snort of laughter as he realised he was relying on the fact that he was here so often that the neighbours would recognise his car to prevent them being suspicious. Innocent gave him a funny look and he tried to cover himself.

"No time like present," he said, and got out. There was no sign of Robbie's car, and Hathaway hoped that meant he'd had the sense to go somewhere else. He hoped like hell that Mark would be in. Innocent followed him up the drive but it was Hathaway who pressed the bell. There was a long pause. Hathaway shifted awkwardly from foot to foot, and then pressed it again, sooner than he would have done if it had been any other suspect.

"He might not be here," Innocent said softly, and Hathaway nodded but then he heard a noise from inside the flat.

"He's here," he said, and Innocent winced.

Mark didn't hurry himself answering the door, but after Hathaway had rung a third time he deigned to open it a crack.

"My father's not in," he said casually, barely glancing at them before beginning to close the door again.

"Actually, it was you we wanted to see," Hathaway said. Mark stopped, looking Hathaway in the face for the first time. He frowned.

"I know you from somewhere," he said, and Hathaway took advantage of his moment of distraction to step forward slightly. Clearly taken by surprise, Mark opened the door enough for them to step inside.

"I was in the café this morning," Hathaway said, deciding not to mention the night Mark arrived. The man didn't seem ruffled exactly, just…wary.

"You're my dad's sergeant, aren't you?" Mark said. "I'm surprised you get the time off to sit around in cafés all day."

"Actually, I don't," Hathaway said. He showed his badge and Innocent did the same. "We need to talk to you about Friday night, and I'm afraid we need to do that down at the station."

"You what?" Mark asked incredulously. "Does my dad know about this?"

"It's because of your dad that we have to be so formal," Hathaway said.

"Down to the station is pretty fucking formal," Mark said. "Are you actually going to arrest me?"

"It's part of the procedure," Hathaway said. "We won't cuff you unless we have to but Mark Lewis, I am arresting you in connection with the murder of Richard Cadwallader." He ran through the familiar words of the caution, watching Mark carefully. He looked completely stunned and his face had gone white, but when he reached out to pick up the keys from the side table his hand did not shake.

"If you would come over to the car, we'll be on our way," Hathaway said. Mark nodded, stepped outside and pulled the door closed behind him.

 

~

 

"I want a lawyer," Mark said, almost before he'd entered the interrogation room, and Hathaway nodded.

"Fair enough," he said.

"More time," Innocent said, when he stepped out of the room. "Robbie will be going out of his mind!"

"I wouldn't say anything without one if I were him, either," Hathaway said. He sighed and drew a hand over his face before going off to review the evidence, make sure that he knew where everyone was supposed to be at every point so that he could get to the bottom of whether his DI's son was a murderer.

 

**

 

Lewis headed for his car without looking at anyone. He was behind the wheel and out of the car park before he actually considered where he wanted to go. He couldn't go home, clearly, that was why Hathaway had given him his key, but to go straight to Hathaway's and be alone in a place he'd only ever been in company when explicitly invited…He drove aimlessly for a while, getting out into the countryside and just taking turnings as they came to him. Right, then left, then right again. On the right path. He'd thought he'd got back on the right path, maybe, but Mark clearly wasn't. Left. Left behind. Sinister. Hathaway is left-handed. What's the age difference between Mark and Hathaway anyway? Mark was born in '82, so that makes him what? 30 this year, Christ in Heaven. Hathaway is more than that, surely. Maybe the same age as Lynn. He's shagging a man young enough to be his son. He'd always known what to think of men who had girlfriends that young, is he one of them now?

"It's not like that," he said, out loud, but maybe everyone thought it wasn't like that, maybe it never <I>was</I> like that and it had just been him, blinkered and stubbornly refusing to see. He pulled over to the side of the road and checked his watch. 4 o'clock already, where had the time gone? The petrol tank was getting low so he drove to the nearest petrol station – actually had to get out a map to find out where it was, not like him at all. While he was there, he picked up a couple of bottles of red wine. Not nice stuff, not the sort Hathaway would drink by choice but it was the best he could do. He wasn't sure what else to get, some sort of 'thank you for having me' gift, something that said 'I'm sorry that you are young enough to be my son,' said 'I didn't know my son would come home,'said 'I don't know my son.' Wine would have to do.

 

~

 

The first thing he did when he walked into Hathaway's house was open the bottle and pour himself a huge glass. The kitchen was familiar territory, safe. He'd been there before, had fished plates out of the dishwasher and served up takeaway, had made tea and coffee or just found the bottle opener. Hathaway had the sort of wine glasses you could fit nearly half a bottle into, the sort people always warned you about. Lewis filled it to the brim, took a huge gulp and topped it up before heading into the living room.

He didn't really care for Hathaway's taste in décor, he told himself as he stood in the doorway. There was nothing specific he could object to but the whole place just felt slightly impersonal somehow. Even the bookshelf, which Lewis knew for sure was full of books that Hathaway actually read, seemed as if it were there to impress visitors with the power of Hathaway's brain rather than a collection of things he loved.

He pottered about, taking regular sips from his glass, pretending to choose a book but really looking for the pieces of Hathaway that Hathaway had left lying around. There weren't many – Lewis didn't feel right opening any drawers and his sergeant was the sort who liked things neat. Funny that he was the sort to have an office romance, really, and yet here he was sleeping with his second co-worker in 3 years. Maybe he just didn't meet anyone else.

The thought made Lewis feel very depressed for reasons he didn't really want to think about and he took another big swallow from his glass before putting the telly on. He'd wait for the lad on the couch.

 

**

 

Hathaway was home slightly later than he'd intended. He had thought of texting a warning, but he couldn't think what to say and so in the end he just turned up unannounced. He had to ring his own doorbell which added a new dimension of unreality to the proceedings, especially when Lewis answered it barefoot and tieless, shirt untucked and the top two buttons undone, showing a light dusting of chest hair. Hathaway had his mouth open, ready to make his excuses, but the words stuck in his throat and Lewis just stepped aside silently to let him in. Hathaway stepped past him and Lewis closed the door. There was a long moment where neither of them seemed to know what to do. Hathaway wanted nothing more than to draw Lewis into a hug, but he wasn't sure whether the other man would accept it or not.

"I've opened the wine," Lewis said, and Hathaway nodded.

"I'm not surprised," he said and yet oddly, he was. "I don't think he did it, sir," he said, before he could stop himself. Lewis turned around, the light from the kitchen turning him into a silhouette and rendering his face invisible.

"Thank you," he said, and Hathaway just nodded, unsure what else he could do.

Lewis had drunk most of the bottle of wine, and Hathaway poured himself the remainder while Lewis doled out the fish and chips. They ate side by side on the couch as always, knees just touching, and ate in silence, staring at the television. Lewis ate most of his fish but left nearly all of his chips, and Hathaway felt obliged to stop eating when Lewis set his plate down on the table, despite the fact that he was nowhere near finished.

"I'm sorry about all this," Lewis said.

"You don't have anything to apologise for," Hathaway said quickly.

"I know you're not much of a talker," Lewis said. "It's not your way. Not mine much, to be honest. Not about the important things, anyway."

"Sir…" Hathaway began, then winced.

"I'm not your boss tonight," Lewis said. "Hell, maybe never again, I don't know."

"I don't think you should be making big decisions tonight," Hathaway said. "You haven't had a good day."

"Damn right I haven't. I know I wasn't there much for the lad but I never thought…"

"Why should you think? Plenty of people have fathers who work long hours and most of them don't end up trafficking drugs," Hathaway said. "Whatever his choices were, they were his choices, not yours. There's nothing you could have done. Besides," he added, "he might not be guilty."

Lewis made a pained noise in the back of his throat. Hathaway suddenly couldn't bear this conversation any more, and twisted in his seat to face Lewis properly.

"You did your best," he said urgently, reaching out to grip Lewis's arm. "Whatever happened, you did everything you could and it's not your fault."

Lewis didn't speak, and Hathaway leaned forward, very slowly, to brush a kiss over his lips. When Lewis didn't pull away, he kissed him again, and this time Lewis kissed back.

They kept the kisses slow and gentle, just exploring each other. When Lewis tried to deepen the kiss, Hathaway pulled back slightly.

"My turn," he said softly.

By mutual agreement they moved through to the bedroom. Lewis went to unfasten the remaining buttons on his shirt, and again, Hathaway stopped him.

"Slow," he said, guiding Lewis back towards the bed. Lewis shook his head slightly, frowning, and Hathaway stopped.

"You're thinking too much," he said. "Come on, Robbie, let me be in charge this time. I've spent a lot of time thinking about what I'd like to do to you."

"Glad you're putting that big brain of yours to good use," Lewis said, and Hathaway grinned.

"I can put my big something else to good use too," he said.

"Promises, promises," Lewis said teasingly, the strained look around his eyes lessening slightly as Hathaway climbed onto the bed and moved to lie next to him, not quite on top of him but pressed close together all the way down before initiating another gentle kiss. This time, Lewis seemed happy to follow his lead and Hathaway took his time trailing kisses over his neck and jaw, teasing at the shirt buttons one by one to bare him to the waist.

When he'd thought about this, far more often than he'd allowed himself to acknowledge, he'd imagined the taste of Lewis's skin, the flicker of his pulse under the skin of his neck, the sensation of stubble against his cheek. What he hadn't imagined was the way Lewis would move against him, the noises he would make when Hathaway did something he particularly liked and the little touches he gave him, letting him know he was there and that it felt good. Hathaway took his time about getting them both naked, wanting to kiss and stroke and touch every inch of Lewis, learning the outside of him in the same way he'd begun to learn the inside. By the time he had their trousers off they were both flushed and panting, and Hathaway wasn't sure which of them was the more turned on. When he trailed a line of kisses across Lewis's hip, Lewis shoved up against him.

"God, Jamie, please," he said, and despite his reservations about reinforcing the use of 'Jamie,' Hathaway took pity and turned his attention finally to Lewis's cock. It wouldn't take much, he knew, and that allowed him to be a bit slower than he might have felt obliged to be, swirling his tongue around the head before taking the tip cautiously into his mouth. His lips felt stretched and the angle seemed strange, and he moved carefully, hyperaware of his teeth. He could hear Lewis babbling above him, but couldn't spare the concentration to hear whether he was still being called Jamie. He shifted position slightly, and that was better, he could move more easily now and he took in more of the shaft, sucking slightly, and suddenly Lewis's hand was on his shoulder and there was an urgent tone in his voice. Hathaway pulled off slightly, so only the tip was in his mouth and swallowed hard as Lewis pulsed beneath him. When Lewis finally lay still, Hathaway slid off, swallowing one last time for good measure.

"Get up here," Lewis said hoarsely and Hathaway went willingly. Lewis kissed him hard, hand going unerringly for Hathaway's cock, and Hathaway only lasted two strokes before he was coming all over them both.

 

~

Afterwards, they went into the living room to eat the leftover chips.

"I always wanted kids," Lewis said. "Bet you didn't, did you?" he said, and Hathaway shook his head.

"Never crossed my mind for a moment," he said. "I suppose I'd have had some if I'd met someone who was keen, but I'm not that interested."

"I dunno, maybe I was too young," Lewis said. "My kids were both in school by the time I was your age. I tried to be a good dad, I really did."

"We haven't got any proof that Mark is guilty of anything yet," Hathaway said. "He may just have been in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"You don't believe that," Lewis said. "I don't believe that," he added. "What sort of father am I, that I can't even believe in my own son's innocence?"

"A realistic one?" Hathaway said. "Val's death was a huge shock to you all, and Mark's had a difficult time of it. If he's come back from Australia with a suitcase full of cocaine, and we don't know that he has, he'll have his reasons. You might not like them, you might not agree with them, but he's your son, he won't have just done it for a quick buck."

"You don't know that," Lewis said. "You'd barely spoken to him before today."

"I know you," Hathaway said. "He may be angry, he may have made a mistake, but he's your son, yours and Val's."

"What am I going to do?" Lewis said softly.

"Bed for now," Hathaway said. "Tomorrow, we'll know where we are." He stood up and reached out his hand. Lewis took it and got slowly to his feet. Hathaway pulled him into a tight hug.

"Come on, old man," he said teasingly. "Sleep now,fret tomorrow."

"Old man," Lewis said grumpily. "If this is what familiarity brings, I may have to reconsider."

"You started it, calling me Jamie," Hathaway said. "Slightly better than Old Man, I suppose."

"You suppose," Lewis said. "I don't need reminding how old I am."

"You're nobbut a lad yet," Hathaway said in his best Yorkshire accent, which was quite frankly appalling and both of them burst out laughing.

 


	5. Thursday

Lewis stirred when Hathaway's alarm went off. He tried to go back to sleep but as soon as he remembered where he was, and why he was there, he knew he wouldn't sleep any more. He couldn't face getting out of bed, knew he should probably make Hathaway a cup of tea or something, make his morning easier, but in the end he just lay there, feigning sleep. He suspected that Hathaway knew but the younger man didn't push him, just got ready for work as if it were any other day.

"I'll ring you when I get the chance," Hathaway said softly, leaning down to kiss him goodbye. Lewis wanted to grab him, pull him back into bed and take off the suit that he'd just put on, keep him there for ever and not let him go to find out… In the end he just nodded, unsure what to say.

The flat seemed empty again without Hathaway there. Lewis dozed for a couple of hours despite himself, finally dragging himself out of bed around 10. He very much didn't want to go back to his own flat but after he'd pottered around, making himself a slow breakfast, then doing the breakfast dishes and wiping down all the surfaces and the stove top as well, he caught himself wondering whether to hoover and decided to bite the bullet and go home.

His own flat seemed just as empty and strange. There was a half drunk cup of tea on the side table, black with a slice of lemon and when had Mark started drinking it like that? The TV was on, showing Jeremy Kyle to the empty room. Lewis switched it off, but the silence was unbearable so he flipped the radio on. He'd left it on BBC 3 and they were playing Wagner.Lewis sat down on the couch and put his face in his hands.

 

**

 

"If only I were allowed to do this drunk," Hathaway said out loud when Innocent brought him the news that Mark and his lawyer were waiting in the interview room.

"You don't have to do it at all," Innocent said. "In fact it would probably be better if we got someone else." Her tone belied her words however, and Hathaway shook his head.

"No, I want to see this through," he said. Innocent nodded.

"Well, good luck. Don't mess this up." Innocent reached out and gave him a pat on the arm.

"No Ma'am," Hathaway said.

Mark looked up when Hathaway entered the room, in a gesture that reminded Hathaway so strongly of Lewis that he had to pause for a moment before speaking.

"Can you please state your name and address for the tape," he said, using the time while Mark was speaking to get himself back on track.

"Can you tell me where you were on Friday night?" A nice easy one to start with.

"Oxford," said Mark, tilting back on his chair and fixing Hathaway with an insolent gaze. "I was staying with a friend for a few days before going to see my father."

"Whereabouts in Oxford?" Hathaway asked, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible.

"Oh, Dave lives in Cowley," Mark said. Hathaway gave him a thin-lipped smile that showed quite clearly what he thought of that answer.

"Can you give me his full name and address please," Hathaway asked, making it clear that it wasn't a request. Mark frowned, as if he couldn't remember, but eventually produced something that might or might not be an actual address. Hathaway handed it over to uniform, with instructions to check it out and bring him in if they found him. That done, he turned his attention back to Mark.

"Did you stay in his house all night?" he asked sweetly.

"No, we had a few drinks and went clubbing," Mark said, tilting his chair back onto all four legs but not taking his eyes from Hathaway. He was almost smiling and Hathaway wanted to slap him.

"Please give me an account of your movements from 10pm," he said shortly. Mark listed a few places. To Hathaway, he seemed to be being deliberately vague – not only did he not give the full name of any of the places he'd visited, he gave all times as either half past or on the hour and gave suburbs rather than street names. Hathaway watched him impassively as Mark waffled on.

"We went to The Jukebox about half twelve," he said.

'Finally,' thought Hathaway, and though he tried not to let it show on his face he was sure that Mark knew what he was thinking.

"Whose idea was it to go to The Jukebox – yours or Dave's?"

"Dave's," Mark said. "I don't think it was even open the last time I was in Oxford."

"And what time did you leave?" Hathaway asked. This was like pulling teeth!

"Oh, about half two," Mark said cheerfully. Hathaway waited, but Mark said nothing further and Hathaway was eventually forced to break the silence.

"Where did you go after that?"

"Home," Mark said succinctly.

"With Dave?"

"He gave me a spare key," Mark said, and there was a hint of unease there, quickly hidden. "Said he might want to get lucky, didn't want me to cramp his style."

"So no one can vouch for you," Hathaway said.

"Dave got in around 4, I think," Mark said, and Hathaway pushed his advantage.

"So he can't confirm your whereabouts between leaving the club at 2.30 and 4am?"

Mark shook his head.

"For the tape, please," Hathaway said, allowing a slight tinge of smugness into his voice.

"No," Mark said.

"Is there anyone who can?" Hathaway asked smoothly.

"I don't follow," Mark said, but there was a definite hint of… something in his voice now. Nerves? Uncertainty?

"Did you leave the club with anyone?" Hathaway asked, a little bit more sharply than he'd intended.

"Yes," Mark said loudly. "A bloke called Richard," he added, and was Hathaway mistaken or was that the first bit of information that Mark had willingly volunteered in the whole interview?

"Had you met him before?" Hathaway asked.

"Nope. He knew Dave, I think, but Dave never mentioned him to me." Mark dropped his gaze, and Hathaway leaned forward slightly.

"Where did you go?"

"We went down to the river," Mark said, and then stopped, again.

"Why?" Hathaway asked. This was it, he had him now, surely.

Mark looked at him, and Hathaway didn't like the look on his face.

"For sex," Mark said casually, and he tilted back on his chair and actually smirked at Hathaway.

"For sex," Hathaway repeated blankly. Could it be true? There was evidence that Richard swung both ways, Mark…well, Lewis had once said if Mark was gay it wouldn't matter but even if that were true the two barely spoke, it was entirely possible that Lewis wouldn't know anything about Mark's love life.

"That's right, Sergeant," Mark said, and he sounded positively gleeful now. "Rich and I went down to the towpath for sex."

"And then what happened?" Hathaway asked, without considering his words.

"Surely even a policeman's brain can fill in the blanks," Mark said and despite himself, Hathaway remembered kissing Lewis in the kitchen the night Mark had arrived. The idea that Mark knew that there was something going on and this was some bizarre sort of test came to his mind. He wanted to dismiss it as paranoid but…

"After the sex," he said harshly. "You went to the river with Richard to have sex, but you went home alone and Richard got stabbed. So what happened?"

"I don't know," Mark said. "He was fine when I left."

"What time was that?" Hathaway asked. He couldn't really believe he was having this conversation, but his training seemed to be carrying him through.

"About three?"

Hathaway couldn't resist raising an eyebrow, and to his satisfaction Mark flushed. Hathaway spoke before Mark could defend himself.

"And where was Dave while you two enjoyed a quick knee-trembler under the trees?"

"I don't know," Mark said. "Like I said, I had a key, so it didn't matter."

"You left without telling him," Hathaway said.

"Told him I'd catch him later," Mark said, sounding unconcerned.

"And you didn't see him by the riverbank at all?" Hathaway said.

"I just told you, no."

"And he didn't get home until 4?"

"No."

"Have you ever had sex with Dave?" Hathaway asked.

Mark looked astonished.

"No way!" he said. "You think me and Dave…" he laughed incredulously. "Believe me, Sergeant," and he said Hathaway's rank as if it was an insult, "believe me, Dave would be the last person I'd try anything like that with."

"Not your type?"

"Not even slightly," Mark said.

"And has he ever made a pass at you?" Hathaway asked.

"Don't be ridiculous. Dave's straight, and even if he weren't, ours isn't that kind of relationship."

"So what kind of relationship is it then? How long have you known each other?"

Mark took another sip of his water, and frowned.

"Is this really relevant?" he asked.

"Just answer the question," Hathaway said tiredly.

"Oh, I think I got to know him just before I left Oxford, after my mother died. You know about my mother?" he asked, and Hathaway was sure that Mark was needling him personally now.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he said. "It must have been a very diifficult time. Where did you and Dave meet?"

"I have no idea, it was years ago," Mark said impatiently. He seemed keen to change the topic because he started speaking quickly, avoiding Hathaway's eyes. "We kept in touch while I was in Australia and when I came home, he was an obvious person to stay with."

Hathaway made a mental note of the fact that Mark had let Dave know he was coming home without having thought to mention it to his father, and returned to the matter at hand.

"Did he know that you were leaving the club with Richard?"

"Probably," Mark said, taking a sip from his glass of water. "I forget."

"Does he know that you sleep with men?" Hathaway pressed.

"It doesn't really matter, does it?"

"It matters if he caught the two of you at it and killed Richard in a fit of rage," pointed out Hathaway. Even as he said it, he knew that it was a stupid thing to say. Nothing in this case hinted that it was about sex.

Mark sighed heavily, as if he couldn't believe that Hathaway was so dense.

"Dave has no interest in my sex life, Sergeant. I was with Richard by the river til three, quarter pastthree and then I went home. I didn't see which way Richard went, but I heard Dave come in around four."

"And you and Richard didn't meet Dave by the river?"

"For the millionth time, no." Mark said.

"So, just let me get this clear," Hathaway said. "You and Richard went down to the river for sex at about half past two, and you stayed there together until about three, three fifteen. You don't know where Richard went afterwards, you don't know where Dave was at any point from when you left the club to when you heard him let himself into his own house at 4am and you don't know who, if anyone, was around the river about that time."

"That's about the shape of it, yes," Mark said. He seemed to have relaxed a bit, and leaned back in his chair, a little smile playing about his lips. Hathaway was forcibly reminded of Lewis and had to look away.

"Thank you. Interview suspended," Hathaway said, and walked out of the room before Mark could say anything else.

 

~

 

He headed straight for the observation room where Innocent was waiting.

"Good job, James," she said at once. "That wasn't an easy one. Who'd have thought Robbie's boy would be such a cool customer?"

"I want to review the CCTV before I speak to him again," Hathaway said. "I don't believe they went down there for sex."

"It seems unlikely," Innocent agreed. "Then again, so does Robbie's lad as a hardened drug dealer. Can Dr Hobson shed any light on it, do you think?"

"He was having sex with his girlfriend about five hours earlier," Hathaway reminded her. "I'll ask but she'll probably say she can't say. What with the hot weather and all," he added bitterly, and Innocent gave a short laugh.

"Well, Dave is in interview 4 when you're ready for him," she said.

"Pity no one else went down there later," Hathaway said bitterly. "Footage first, then Dave, then back to Mark," Hathaway said. Innocent nodded her approval.

"Let's get on with it then," she said, but kindly, and led the way back to Hathaway's office.

The CCTV, now Hathaway knew what to look for, confirmed that Dave had followed the others down to the towpath just under ten minutes later. He too had been moving purposefully, too purposefully for that time of night after an evening spent drinking. Richard and Mark hadn't been touching, hadn't even been looking at each other when they walked down.

"I'm not a body language expert, but they don't look like a couple sneaking off for a shag," Innocent said.

"Best case scenario, then, is that Mark and Richard went down there to make some sort of drug deal, Dave followed them to get his share, it turned nasty and Richard ended up in the river."

"Plausible," Innocent said. "Let's hope for Robbie's sake that Dave was the one who did the stabbing."

"Let's hope," said Hathaway sombrely.

 

~

 

Dave turned out to be a thickset man in his late twenties. He didn't look up as Hathaway entered the room. Hathaway steeled himself and started asking questions.

"Please confirm your full name and address for the tape," he said. It was as good a way of opening as any, and it let Hathaway observe the man at close quarters. Dave sat straight on in his chair and faced him, not looking away. He didn't seem very concerned, and he didn't look defiant or angry.

"How long have you known Mark Lewis?" Hathaway asked.

"Dunno. About ten years, on and off?"

"Would you say you know him well?"

"Well enough."

Hathaway resigned himself to another interview mostly involving monosyllables. Dave had also exercised his right to a lawyer, and the woman was sitting next to him, looking faintly bored with the procedings.

"When did he tell you he was coming back to England?" Hathaway asked.

"Phoned me from the airport," Dave said. "Said his accommodation had fallen through and could he stop with me for a couple of days. I said sure, whatever."

'Probably in those exact words too,' Hathaway thought.

"Mark's dad lives in Oxford, doesn't he?" he asked, sounding as curious as possible.

"Yeah, and?"

"Why do you think Mark chose to stay with you rather than his own father?" Hathaway asked bluntly.

"He and the old man don't get on," Dave said. He looked as if he was about to say something else, but then thought better of it.

"How long did Mark stay with you?" Hathaway asked, thinking that the more information they got out of Dave about Mark's general movements, the better.

"Two nights, the Friday and the Saturday," Dave said.

"Why did he leave on the Sunday?"

Dave shrugged and said nothing.

"Please answer the question," Hathaway said.

"Dunno," Dave said.

"What time did he arrive on Friday?" Hathaway asked, changing tack.

"Dunno."

At Hathaway's warning look, he expanded.

"We met up in a café after I'd finished work, walked back from there to dump his stuff."

"Which café?" Hathaway asked, but he already knew the answer.

"Speedy's on Mill Road," Dave said.

"Was he talking to anyone when you arrived?" he asked, thinking that really, they should just arrest everyone who'd ever gone into Speedy's and bring them up on drugs charges.

"Dunno," said Dave. He wasn't even bothering to shrug any more.

"Did you leave the café straight away?"

"Yeah," Dave said.

"Where did you go?"

"Back to my house in Cowley. Mark dumped his bag, we had takeaway, a couple of cans, decided to go out."

"Where did you go?"

Dave, with much prompting, produced a list of places and times that roughly tallied with the information that Mark had given.

"Did you meet up with anyone in particular?"

"Not really," Dave said. Unlike Mark, he didn't seem to be getting frustrated with or annoyed by Hathaway's questions. He seemed quite happy to go on answering all day, and Hathaway found that more wearing than Mark's smart-alec attitude.

"Not really?" he repeated. "Surely it's either a yes or a no?"

"Not really," Dave said, and there was no satisfaction in his voice. "We met some people, blokes I've known for years. Mark's been away a while, I dunno whether they knew him or not. We didn't set out to meet anyone."

"But in the Jukebox you met Richard," Hathaway told him.

"Yeah,"

"How well do you know Richard?"

"He's been around about a year now. Flashy little shit. Clever, though," he added and Hathaway marvelled at the strange power Richard had had to charm everyone.

"Did you know him well?"

"Spoken to him a couple of times. He's in the 'Box a lot, I like it there…" Dave trailed off.

"Did he know Mark?"

"Doubt it. Mark's been in Australia a long time."

"Did Richard do drugs?" Hathaway asked.

Dave was silent for a long time. He didn't avoid Hathaway's eye, rather, he seemed to look through him. Hathaway rode the silence, sure that Dave would speak in the end.

"Yes," said Dave, and Hathaway was actually surprised.

"How do you know?" Hathaway asked.

"He offered to sell me some," Dave said. "Before Christmas. I said no."

"Why didn't you report it?" Hathaway asked, just to see what the man said.

For the first time, Dave's expression changed. He looked directly at Hathaway, a look of mingled pity and amusement on his face.

"Who to?" he asked simply. "A young university lad like that?" and Hathaway nodded, conceding the point.

"Did you introduce him to Mark?" he asked.

"Probably. I'd had a few, the details aren't clear. We talked, I remember that."

"And they left together," Hathaway said, deciding that he might as well reveal that he knew that.

"Yes."

"Why?" Hathaway asked.

Dave looked blank.

"Why did they leave together?" Hathaway repeated, when Dave showed no sign of breaking the silence. He knew he was getting frustrated, but getting information out of this pair was beginning to seem a completely hopeless proposition.

"No idea," Dave said.

"And why did you follow them?"

"Who says I followed them?" Dave asked, and there was a slight edge to his voice now.

"Answer the question," said Hathaway sharply.

"Mark was supposed to be staying at mine. I wanted to go home and he'd gone off somewhere. I asked the bouncer if he'd seen him, and he said he'd gone down to the river. I went to see if I could find him, tell him I was leaving. The river's the quickest way home, so I didn't lose by it."

"What if you hadn't found him?"

"He probably knows the way back to mine," Dave said. "I was drunk, if I hadn't found him, I'd have left him."

"Did he have a key to your house?" Hathaway asked.

"Why would he have a key?" Dave asked, looking puzzled. "I don't even have spare keys! Why would I give one to him?"

"Why indeed," Hathaway mused. "So, you found him then?"

"What?"

"You said 'If I hadn't found him, I'd have left him.' So, you found him." Hathaway couldn't resist sounding slightly smug, and he saw Dave's brows wrinkle slightly.

"Yes," Dave said slowly. "He was smoking a cigarette under the trees."

"Did you see Richard?"

"No," Dave said coolly.

"Did you think that was odd?"

"Nope."

"Did Mark seem agitated at all?"

"He was smoking," Dave said, as if stating the obvious. "He looked normal."

"And then what?" Hathaway asked.

"We walked home," Dave said simply. The whole time they had been speaking, Dave had sat still in his chair, hands flat on the table. Now he leaned back slightly, turned to glance at his lawyer.

"So, you and Mark met in Speedy's after you finished work. You went back to yours for a few cans, then went out to a variety of unsalubrious places before winding up at the Jukebox, where you introduced Mark to Richard. Mark and Richard left together, you followed them down to the river bank where you found Mark smoking a cigarette. You and he left together, and there was no sign of Richard."

"That's right," Dave agreed.

"Did you know Richard has sex with men?" Hathaway asked.

"Yes," Dave said. "Fucks anything that moves, that one."

"Do you think he was interested in Mark?"

"Nah," Dave said, sounding unconcerned. "Mark's far too old for him. Rich liked them young and pretty, and besides, he'd got his hands full with that girl." He laughed. "She was not happy to see us!"

"Why not?" Hathaway asked, ignoring the idea that an age gap of seven years was too much.

"Dunno," Dave said, seeming to realised he'd said more than he ought. "She was hammered, I can't be listening to drunk women."

"Interview suspended," Hathaway said, and then went to consider his strategy.

 

~

"He's lying," Innocent told him when he went into the observation room again. "He knew exactly where he was going when he came out of that club. Unless the bouncer was inside, and I've got someone checking the footage to make sure that he wasn't, he didn't speak to anyone."

"Not much to go on, is it?" Hathaway said glumly. "Both stories just about plausible, Dave's slightly more so with the exception of that one detail, no one else to corroborate or contradict any of it... so where does that leave us?"

"Joint prosecution," Innocent said briskly. "As far as we can ascertain, one of them did it. The appeals we've made so far haven't brought anyone forward, and quite frankly, with that neighbourhood and a drugs connection, that's no surprise. The drugs boys agree that there's lots of cocaine in town and that people agree that it came from the Australian. Assuming that the Australian is Mark, and the proprietor of Speedy's as good as told you that, then one of these is our man. If they won't crack and tell us which, then we'll leave it to the lawyers to decide." She stopped speaking. "God knows what that will do to poor Robbie," she added softly.

"Please give me more time," Hathaway said. "There must be something, something I'm missing that will open this up."

Innocent looked at him, a long and thoughtful look that made Hathaway squirm inwardly. He concentrated on projecting just the right degree of concern.

"One more day," she said. "After that, we won't be able to hold them any longer. You have until tomorrow, James."

"Thank you, Ma'am," Hathaway said devoutly, and hurried off back to his office.

 

~

Despite all his hard workthey were no further forward by the end of the day. Mark claimed to have gone down to the river for sex and left alone afterwards, without seeing Dave. Dave claimed to have met Mark by the river and gone home together, without seeing Richard. Both of them denied any knowledge of drugs. Hathaway was almost ready to scream.

"What do you think?" he asked Innocent after he'd spent yet another fruitless hour interviewing Mark.

"I think we won't get any more out of them today. Or possibly ever," she said bluntly. "They're not scared, either of them, though God knows you've given them reason to be. Unless we get a new angle, there's nothing more we can do at this point."

Hathaway scowled.

"Go home, think about it. I've been onto the drug squad, asked them to come up with anything they can linking either of them to drugs or violence. Mike is on the phone to Australia as we speak."

"Why are they lying for each other?" Hathaway said in frustration. "They must know who did it, so why the hell won't one of them speak up?"

"They're guilty of so many things, one murder won't make much difference," Innocent said. "Go home, James, that's an order. They'll still be here tomorrow, more's the pity."

"Yes ma'am," Hathaway said reluctantly. He turned to walk back to the office, and she coughed slightly.

"You've done good work today, James. It's not been an easy day. I'll be coming to your office in half an hour and woe betide you if you're still there."

Hathaway gave her an unwilling smile, and headed to the office slightly more quickly than he otherwise might have done. He kept going over it all in his head, Jade's story, the interview with the bartender, the way Mark and Dave's stories tallied and differed. What was he missing? He swore aloud, and grabbed the transcripts off the desk to take home.

~

He'd remembered to take his spare keys when he left that morning, so he was able to let himself in.Lewis had clearly been home at some point because there was a suitcase by the door, and the man himself was just coming out of the living room, clad in jeans and one of the football shirts that Hathaway had a secret fondness for. Instead of coming any closer though, Lewis stopped in the doorway, and Hathaway frowned slightly.

"I'm not staying," Lewis said, and Hathaway's heart finished its descent into his boots.

"Is it because I'm married to my work?" he said flippantly, and he saw Lewis's lips twitch despite himself.

"It's hardly appropriate, is it?" Lewis said. "You're the policeman investigating a murder in which my son is prime suspect. Unless he's no longer prime suspect?" he said, and Hathaway hated to crush the flicker of hope but couldn't do anything else.

"Not exactly prime," he said weakly. "Dave is still very much in the running," and Lewis's face, already crumpled, fell further. "We need a new angle," Hathaway said, dropping the files and moving swiftly to take Lewis's hands. "More evidence, something to get one of them to jump one way or another. We can think of something, I promise."

"I've no doubt you will," Lewis said. "I'm going to Manchester for a few days, I can't tell our Lynn over the phone, not with the baby due any day." He gently disengaged his hands from Hathaway's.

"Don't do this," Hathaway said. "Don't…" He broke off and looked at Lewis pleadingly. "Don't leave me," he finished, almost in a whisper.

"It's not like that," Lewis said immediately, but there was a note of doubt in his voice.

"Well, what is it then?" Hathaway said, more loudly than he'd intended. "Last night you were talking about leaving the force and tonight you're leaving Oxford!"

"You're exaggerating," Lewis said. "This," he gestured between them, "matters, I know it matters, but I can't stay here, staring at your damn walls while you find the evidence to send my son to prison! There's nothing I can DO here, at least in Manchester I can try and explain things to my little girl face to face."

There was a long pause, and this time it was Lewis's turn to take Hathaway's hands.

"I'm sorry," Hathaway said. "I'm so sorry."

After that, it seemed there was nothing else to say. Lewis had actually cooked and both of them ate mechanically, in silence. If he'd been asked, Hathaway wouldn't have been able to say what he was eating.

"I'll drive you to the station," Hathaway said.

"Nah, I'll get a taxi," Lewis said. "No point dragging you out at this time of night, you'll be in work early tomorrow, I'm sure."

Hathaway nodded, and put down his knife and fork.

"I'll call one, shall I?" he said, and went into the hall to use the landline, suddenly desperate to have it all over with.

"Leave the washing up," he called, when he heard Lewis clattering the dishes around. "I'll do it later."

Lewis came out into the hall, already shrugging on his jacket.

"It'll be five minutes," Hathaway said. "They'll ring back," he added. Lewis nodded, and Hathaway couldn't resist any more, just strode across the hall and enveloped him in a hug, clinging as if he would never let go. For a moment he thought Lewis would actually push him off but then, as always, Lewis reciprocated, holding just as tightly until the phone shrilled once, signalling the arrival of the taxi.

"Phone me when you get in," Hathaway said, reluctantly loosening his hold and stepping back.

"Course I will," Lewis said gruffly. His eyes looked suspiciously red but as Hathaway was sure his own were no better, he didn't comment. Lewis picked up his suitcase and walked out of the front door without looking back. Hathaway waited until he heard the taxi door slam and the car drive away before sinking slowly to the floor.


	6. Friday

Lewis open his eyes and stared in disbelief at the Travelodge alarm clock, which was clearly faulty because there was no way that it was really half past nine.He'd spent most of the journey to Manchester considering what to say to Lynn, and hadn't considered that by the time he'd got to Manchester and then to her house it would be well after midnight, hardly a social time to arrive unannounced. He'd phoned Hathaway, who sounded very relieved to hear from him, and then checked into a Travelodge where he had apparently slept like a log. Remembering that breakfast ended at 10, he hastily threw on some clothes and headed down to eat.

Despite his extensive pondering on the issue, he hadn't yet decided whether it was more alarming to just turn up on Lynn's doorstep unannounced or whether he should ring first. In the end, he phoned Hathaway. It rang quite a few times, and as he waited for Hathaway to answer, Lewis wondered whether he'd had to come out of the interrogation room, if he'd been speaking to Mark.

"If it were you," he said quickly, before the lad could speak, "and your dad was coming to tell you something like this, would you want him to ring first?"

Hathaway blew out his lips, and Lewis could imagine the little frown he got when he was considering a problem. For the first time, he wondered what it would have been like if he'd brought Hathaway with him.

"I think the important thing is to tell her," said Hathaway after a moment, and Lewis nodded, forgetting that Hathaway couldn't see him.

"Are you still there?" asked Hathaway after a moment, and Lewis was pretty sure that no one else would recognise the concern in his voice for what it was.

"Thanks, James," he said softly.

"You're welcome," Hathaway said, in that clipped way of his that usually meant he was embarrassed.

"I love you," Lewis said, because he could and because he was suddenly so very sure it was true. Hathaway made a sound that sounded like a cross between a laugh and an exhale, and Lewis was sure he'd be blushing now.

"I'll phone you later," Hathaway responded, and Lewis hung up and went to Lynn's with a slightly lighter heart.

 

**

 

Hathaway spent most of the morning on the phone, talking to the drugs squad, talking to archives, talking to Australia. Dave had form, one conviction for aggravated assault and a couple of warnings for drunk and disorderly. Mark had one of those too, it turned out, from just after Val died. After Hathaway had confirmed his identity in about 700 ways and promised them his firstborn son and firstborn daughter as well, Australia reluctantly confirmed that they'd been watching Mark, that he'd been involved in the drug scene and they'd pulled him in a couple of times but not been able to prove anything. He'd left the country very suddenly, bought his ticket on the day, otherwise he'd definitely have been searched on suspicion of trafficking. Nothing for violence though, which gave Hathaway hope. When he finally broke for lunch (a small sandwich, a very strong coffee and half a packet of cigarettes) he phoned Lewis back.

"You're a bad, bad man," he said when Lewis answered. "I was on hold to Australia!"

Lewis chuckled, though he sounded subdued.

"I'm at our Lynn's," he said. "We've done the tea and tears bit, now we're watching afternoon telly and eating the biggest box of chocolates you've ever seen."

"Well, I won't keep you long," Hathaway said. "Don't want you to miss Deal or No Deal, after all – I know about your disturbing fixation with Noel Edmonds."

Lewis laughed out loud this time, a big startled belly-laugh.

"Noel Edmonds? You're off your head, you are. How on earth do you come up with this stuff? I never know what you're going to say next," he said.

"I could say the same to you," Hathaway said.

"You could, or you could say it back," Lewis said.

"I wasn't aware that my feelings were in doubt," Hathaway said, semi-seriously.

"They're not," Lewis said. "Doesn't mean I don't want to hear it. You should come up as soon as you can get away. I'm stopping in a hotel, you won't be in the way."

Hathaway swallowed.

"I'll see," he said, knowing he sounded abrupt but not able to do anything about it. "I'll phone you later, OK? I need to get back to work."

"Alright," Lewis said, and now he sounded subdued again, dammit. "I'll talk to you later."

Hathaway hung up and swore violently before bolting the rest of his horrible coffee and arranging to have Mark brought up from the cells for one last-ditch attempt.

Mark didn't look quite as cocky that afternoon. As far as Hathaway had been able to ascertain, it had been the first time Mark had spent a night in the cells, and Hathaway hoped bitterly that it had scared him.

"Good afternoon," he said courteously. "I hope you slept well?"

"Just great, thanks," Mark said. "I hope you're looking forward to letting me go."

"Actually, I'm looking forward to charging you," Hathaway said, ignoring the intake of breath from Mark's lawyer. "We've got confirmation from Australia that you were heavily involved in the drugs scene there, and that if they'd known you were leaving the country you'd have been searched at the airport. We've traced the people you spoke to in the café and at The Jukebox on the night in question and they're all petty crooks with drug connections. You weren't meeting them for your health – rather the opposite. So give me one good reason why I shouldn't charge you?"

"You've got no evidence!" Mark said. "How the hell can you charge me for dealing when you haven't found any drugs?"

"So you don't deny that you're guilty, your only concern is with the evidence?" Hathaway asked.

"That's ridiculous. How can he talk to me like that?" Mark asked his lawyer.

"If you are intending to charge my client, then I suggest you do so, otherwise you will need to let him go."

"The situation as it stands is this," Hathaway said. "We have you and your friend Dave, who was kind enough to give you houseroom on very short notice and who is also well known to the local drugs squad, who go out for a few drinks and to meet a few people, all unsavoury types. You, Dave, and our victim head down to the river, nobody sees what happens, but you and your friend Dave walk away scot-free and a 23-year-old man ends up dead. Do you have anything to say about this?"

"I've told you everything I know. If Dave's told you something different, maybe Dave's lying."

"Or maybe you're both lying. Perhaps I'll charge you both with murder for now and sort out the niceties later."

"You can't do that!" Mark said, now sounding genuinely alarmed. "Just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time?"

"I can do that," Hathaway said, and the lawyer nodded, reluctantly. "The most convincing explanation of the night in question is that either you or Dave killed Richard and threw his body into the river, and neither of you has made any attempt at giving me a more plausible explanation. The two of you might have been working together or one of you might have done it alone, but the way things stand, either you're guilty of murder, a murder described by our pathologist as 'the work of someone who knew what they were doing,' or you're deliberately protecting the man who did it, which is conspiring to pervert the course of justice." Hathaway stopped speaking and looked at Mark closely. He was pale but his jaw was set and Hathaway knew it was pointless.

"Mark Lewis, I hereby charge you as an accessory to the murder of Richard Cadwallader. I fully expect that you will be remanded in custody until the trial."

"I didn't do it," said Mark.

"If you know anything, anything at all that could help us clear this up, then now is the time to say," Hathaway said. He waited but Mark didn't speak again and Hathaway went to the next interview room to repeat the whole sorry process with Dave.

 

~

 

"Take the weekend off," Innocent said when he came out of the room. "We've got enough to be going on with for now."

"It doesn't feel right," Hathaway said, and he wasn't clear whether he meant putting Robbie's son in prison, or the case as a whole.

"I think we've got as close to the truth on this one as we're likely to get for now," Innocent said. "You've done a wonderful job, James, but I don't think you're the one to take this one forward. I'm going to pass it to the drugs team for the follow-up work. You can hand over to them on Monday."

"Thank you," Hathaway said, a feeling of relief spreading through him.

"Poor Robbie," Innocent said. "That grandchild of his is due any now, isn't it?"

"Next week, he said, but that might have been a week ago," Hathaway said. "He's gone up to Manchester to see her," he added.

"Good," Innocent said. "I'll phone him now, get him up to date with what's happened. You have a good weekend," she said and Hathaway, clearly dismissed, went back to the office to tidy up the last few bits of paperwork before heading home.

He didn't feel good about this case at all. Even if it hadn't been Mark, which just added a whole dimension of awful, he hated cases like this. No resolution, no explanation, no… acknowledgement that something terrible had happened. No acknowledgement of sin, Hathaway thought, as he drove back to his house. He wondered whether Mark would get more talkative now he'd been charged, whether he'd finger Dave or whether he'd be too scared to do so. Wondered whether he'd be so sure that the real killer was Dave if the arrogant man sitting across from him in the interview room parrying his every remark with one of his own hadn't been the son of his long-time friend and brand-new lover.

"God help me," he said aloud.

God didn't answer, and Hathaway pulled into his driveway, checking his phone reflexively even though he knew that he would have heard it if it had rung. Innocent must have phoned Lewis by now, he must know what had happened. Was he still talking to her, or was he telling Lynn? Why didn't he phone?!

Hathaway sloped around his house for a bit, unable to settle. When he realised that he was mentally packing a weekend bag, he gave in to the inevitable.

Before leaving, he phoned Lewis. Voicemail. He sighed, knowing that there was almost no way Lewis knew how to check his messages.

"I know you won't get this," he said. "I just… look, I'm coming up. I'm sorry I didn't… you startled me, that's all." He paused, aware he was babbling. "I'm going to drive. I'll see you later." He paused again. Could he say it? "I… oh, you know the rest," he said, and hung up.

 

**

 

"That was my boss," Lewis said, coming back into the living room where Lynn was sitting bolt upright on the sofa. "She's given me two weeks compassionate leave."

"They've charged him," Lynn said, disbelief in her voice. "They've really charged him."

"Accessory to murder, not with the murder itself," Lewis said. "They've charged them both the same, to keep them over the weekend. They're passing it to the drugs squad on Monday, letting them deal with the rest of it."

"Is that normal?" Lynn said.

"As normal as anything about this has been," Lewis said. "I should ring James," he said almost to himself. "Make sure he's OK."

"You phoned him at lunchtime," Lynn said, looking at him curiously.

"Aye," Lewis agreed. He felt that he should say something else, but he wasn't sure what so he just left it at that.

"You talk about him a lot," Lynn said. "How… how long have you been together?"

Lewis blinked at her, dumbstruck.

"Oh, come on Dad!" she said impatiently. "You may be the detective but I'm not completely stupid. Your voice changes when you talk about him, you know."

"About a week," Lewis said, "though it's been coming on for a while. I know it's daft, he's closer to your age than mine and we work together for chrissakes, but we just… seem to fit."

Lynn nodded. "I never thought I'd end up with Simon. I mean, not only is he short but he's balding as well! And 40! But somehow he sneaked up on me." She reached out to squeeze her dad's hand. "I don't promise to like him, mind," she said. "I can't be doing with a wicked stepfather at this time in my life!"

"He's already put your brother in a cell," Lewis said gravely, and Lynn stopped laughing immediately.

"What a mess," she said glumly, and Lewis agreed wholeheartedly.

 

~

It was nearly 8pm when Lewis noticed the little light flashing on his phone.

"What does this mean, love?" he asked, unplugging it from where it had been charging itself in the hall and taking it in to show her.

"It means you've got a voicemail," Lynn said, after pressing a few buttons. "From your toy boy," she added teasingly. "Here, press that and you can listen to it."

"You're both as bad as each other," Lewis informed her, and went back into the hall to listen to his message. As soon as it had finished, he phoned Hathaway back.

 

**

 

Being the law-abiding citizen that he was, Hathaway had to pull into a lay-by before he could answer his phone.

"I thought you weren't going to answer," Lewis said in lieu of hello.

"I'm driving," Hathaway said reproachfully. "You're not allowed to use a phone at the wheel."

"I got your message. Lynn showed me how to listen to it," Lewis said. "How far are you now?"

"Close," Hathaway said. "I'd be able to give you more precise information if I actually knew where I was going," he said sheepishly. "Turns out that I don't have Lynn's address. Or the address of your hotel."

Lewis laughed.

"Well, it's lucky I phoned then, isn't it?" he said.

"Very," Hathaway said. "I was going to get to Manchester and then try to phone you again, you've saved me some bother."

"Probably best if you collect me from our Lynn's." Lewis said, and Hathaway programmed the address into his sat nav.

"Recalculating," the artificial female voice said, and Hathaway sighed.

"The evil one tells me I am about thirty minutes away, assuming that I can perform a U turn on this motorway," he said. "So, any time between forty minutes to an hour then."

"I'll look forward to it," Lewis said.

~

Hathaway arrived 45 minutes later. He pulled up outside the house and turned off the engine. Now that he was actually here, the whole thing seemed a lot more alarming. He looked at the little suburban house, with its net curtains and neatly trimmed patch of lawn and for a moment he wondered what on earth he was doing.

'Far too late to back out now,' he told himself firmly, taking the keys from the ignition and getting out of the car.

He knocked on the door, somewhat tentatively. There was a little pause, long enough for him to wonder whether he should have knocked louder or, worse, if he'd got the wrong house. When the door finally swung open to reveal an extremely pregnant woman with dark curly hair he was sure the relief showed on his face.

"You must be James," Lynn said. "Come on in." She stepped back, holding the door open, and Hathaway went in. Lewis was standing in the doorway of what was presumably the living room. Lynn shut the door behind them.

"Do you want tea or something?" Lynn asked. "You must have been driving for ages!"

"Tea would be lovely," Hathaway said. Lynn headed past him towards the rear of the house.

"I can make that, pet," Lewis said.

"No, I want to," she said. "You can make me as many cups of tea as you like after the little terror is born. James can help me, you go and sit down."

She walked towards the kitchen without looking back. Hathaway made a 'help me' face at Lewis, who just shrugged, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, and Hathaway followed Lynn into the kitchen.

"You have a nice house," he said, for want of anything better to say.

"Thank you," Lynn said, moving busily around the kitchen collecting mugs. Her belly was huge and Hathaway couldn't stop staring.

"Doesn't that… hurt?" he asked, unable to stop himself. Lynn gave him a funny look.

"It's not the most comfortable thing in the world but it's not actually painful," she said, sounding amused. "Gets in the way a lot, though!"

"I can imagine," Hathaway said, but somehow he still couldn't stop staring.

"You don't see a lot of pregnant women, do you?" Lynn said, and now she was definitely laughing at him.

"I was training to be a priest; it's not something that leads to having a lot of female friends," Hathaway said, slightly defensively. "Are you sure you shouldn't be sitting down or something?"

"I've been sitting down all day," Lynn said. "Besides, I'm fed up of being this big, if making tea sends me into labour I'll be a happy woman!"

Hathaway's horror must have shown on his face because Lynn burst out laughing.

"I think I'm going to like you," she said, pouring a bit of boiling water into the teapot and swilling it around before tipping it away and adding the tea. "What made you switch from priesting to the police?"

"I fancied a different sort of mystery," said Hathaway wryly. "What led you to settle in Manchester?"

"I like a city that's full of the living," she said, and Hathaway nodded.

"You can carry these through," she said, handing him the tray with the teapot, his mug, and, fantastically, a little milk jug full of milk on it. Hathaway blinked at it in astonishment before following her through and setting it down where she indicated.

"I am too pregnant to pour," she informed them both, and Hathaway, as closest, took over.

"You didn't tell me that James was going to be a priest, Dad," Lynn said, as Hathaway divided tea and milk equally between the three mugs.

"Before I knew him," Lewis said. "He was already a copper when I came back from the Virgin Islands."

"I'm thinking of going back to university next," Hathaway said, handing one mug to Lynn and another to Lewis. "Study Theology, come back to God from a different angle."

"A man of many talents!" Lynn said.

Hathaway shrugged.

"Or alternatively, a man who's indecisive," he said.

Lewis laughed.

"You always know your own mind," he said. Hathaway gave him a quick smile and took a sip of his tea, before attempting to stifle a yawn.

"We should probably head off," Lewis said. "You need your rest. Besides," he added, looking at Lynn, " your Simon'll be back soon, and I'm sure he won't thank us for cluttering up the place."

"Really, I'm fine," Lynn said, but Hathaway yawning had clearly set her off because she yawned too. "You'll come back tomorrow, right?"

"Of course," Lewis said. Lynn got to her feet to see them out, and surprised Hathaway by hugging him after she'd hugged Lewis.

"I know it's not your fault, Mark I mean," she said, pulling back but not letting him go, her ridiculous belly pressed against his. "I hope it hasn't put you off my family, because I think you'll be good for my dad."

"I hope that my role in the whole business hasn't put you off me," Hathaway said.

"None of this is in any way your fault!" she said. "Go on, take him home. I'll see you both tomorrow."

"Goodnight," Hathaway said. Lewis was shaking his head slightly, and he stepped forward again after Lynn had finally let Hathaway go, and enveloped his daughter in a huge hug. Hathaway edged past them and went back to the car.

"So, where are we off to?" he asked when Lewis slid into the passenger seat a few moments later.

"Travelodge," Lewis said thickly, and Hathaway programmed it in without comment.

After navigating the mysterious Manchester streets Hathaway and satnav managed to locate the Travelodge. It was just as all Travelodges were. Hathaway headed straight for the bathroom and when he came out, Lewis was sitting on the side of the bed, taking off his shoes.

"So, that was our Lynn," he said

"She seems a lovely woman," Hathaway said, heading over to the bed.

"She always was," Lewis said, and then his face crumpled. Hathaway pulled him into a tight hug, his own face wet.

When they finally got under the covers and turned out the light, Hathaway wasn't sure who reached out first. They clung together, bodies intertwined all the way down as if they had been made in one piece.

"Thank you for waiting for me," Lewis said softly, into the darkness. "You're right, I always knew."

"I knew you did. I thought you were waiting for me," Hathaway said truthfully, and Lewis laughed slightly.

"Perhaps we were waiting for each other," he said.

 

 

The End

 

Thank you for reading!  
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